


aint missin no meals

by queenbeetle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Begging, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Canon Divergence, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Drunk Sex, Fluff, Grinding, Hair Pulling, I think?? Maybe??, Intercrural Sex, Language Kink, Lingerie, M/M, Pet Names, Pregnancy Kink, Spanking, Top Victor Nikiforov, Viktor is weak, and yes that's a niki minaj lyric, bless the liveshow for Validating™ my HCs, but honestly who knows at this point, every chapter can stand alone btw, he is too powerful....., i’m just rly indecisive ngl, i’m sORR Y, just…….yuuri…., praise kink maybe??, struggling for dominance, sugar daddy viktor, takes place post-retirement viktuuri, that tag alone oh my god yall, thic yuuri, viktor the photographer™, viktors a thirsty bitch, we are all viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenbeetle/pseuds/queenbeetle
Summary: Viktor can’t help it. Yuuri’s leggings are so tight these days, and it's so hard to focus on anything other than how his clothing shows off all his new curves in all the right ways.And yet his new dance leggings were somehow even more captivating- sleek, black and oh so fitted. They hug each twist and turn, every dip and curve of Yuuri's lower half. Paired with the tight white tee-shirt he wears, Viktor can very, very much appreciate the gentle tapering of Yuuri's soft waist and the indescribable outward flair of his hips. Paired so right with his plush thighs, it all adds to the deliciously pear shaped force to be reckoned with that is Yuuri Katsuki.





	1. somethin he can grab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all i wrote this before ep10 and honestly??? I had to go back and rewrite it b/c of the banquet. Based off the self indulgent HC that viktuuri get married, retire together and are happy forever. Also that post retirement, Yuuri becomes the physical form of the "not fat but definitely enjoys pasta" post and has an ass that will!! not!! quit!!

Yuuri is heaven sent, Viktor is sure of it. Ever since he first laid eyes on him, when he first really looked at the younger man- drunk, erotic, _messy_ \- Viktor couldn’t keep his thoughts anywhere other than Yuuri Katsuki at any given point. Even months after that fateful encounter, Viktor had been enraptured with Yuuri’s imitation video. He had been soft, thick hipped and flawless in his performance which had been the final nail in Viktor’s “Helplessly obsessed with Yuuri Katsuki” coffin.

Of course, nothing had changed now. More nails had been added, possibly one for every single day that Viktor was able to have Yuuri beside him. Post-Retirement Yuuri still has Post-Retirement Viktor tied tight around his delicate fingers. In fact, the only thing that does change about Yuuri is the only thing Viktor is struggling with.

It starts with his thighs.

Some months after their final season, Yuuri has maintained his muscle, but had gained something a little extra. Slowly, with each bowl of katsudon, the sharp angles of Yuuri's body soften into curves and the firmness of his legs begin to lessen. The man is incredible, his stamina remains more or less intact, which he likes to prove to Viktor every time he decides to join his husband on his morning runs. It seems as if with each meal he gobbles down, the more electrified his body becomes.

"I don't have anything to diet for," he would reason through a mouthful of glorious homemade tempura. "It's fine as long as I keep exercising right?"

Viktor can’t argue with that. When it comes to food, he secretly still wonders what Yuuri loves more: Viktor or katsudon. At dinner occasionally he’ll find himself staring at Yuuri’s plate, cleared in an instant and under his breath he’ll curse the sinfully delicious meal like a child.

Late in the evening, they lay together in Viktor's bed, Yuuri’s back pressed to his husband’s chest and Makkachin tucked under Yuuri’s jaw. At this time of night, the summer’s muggy heat leaves the inn quiet, all noise dulled by chirping cicadas and the hum of the fans in every open window.

Summers in Japan are excruciating for Viktor; its _too_ hot, he’s _too_ sweaty, and he’s gotten more sunburns here than he has in his his entire life. Often, Yuuri tells him that sleeping separately would be better if he was getting too hot, but it only makes Viktor pull the other closer in an act of stubborn rebellion. Regardless, he'd rather be here than anywhere else. He would spend his summers in hell if it meant getting to curl up to Yuuri every night.

This night is just like any one of those other nights. Viktor can feel the dampness of Yuuri’s shirt against his bare torso, and even Makkachin is panting into Yuuri’s hair, and yet neither of them want to let go of the man between them.

“Yuuri,” Viktor hums, walking his fingers over his husband’s bare legs.

“Yeah?” Yuuri replies, leafing through his magazine. Goosebumps crawl over his skin when he feels Viktor’s fingers ghost over the tops of his thighs. They splay out against the plushness there and pry gently between his legs, delving into his sensitive inner thighs. Viktor noses the back of Yuuri’s neck, taking in his scent- something like sweat and sea salt- before closing his eyes. He feels the barely there ridges of silver stretch marks arching over Yuuri’s soft legs.

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri breaths, squirming in his arms and jostling the large poodle in front of him. Both the dog and Yuuri whine in protest at the same time and Viktor can’t help but snort at the sounds. His hands smooth up Yuuri’s abdomen, pausing briefly to squeeze at the cute little pudge he’s is acquiring there before he decides to wrap his arms around his husband. Again he takes a deep breath, but exhales gently over Yuuri’s ear when he says,

“You’re so soft, Yuurichka…” Viktor delights in the shudder he can feel against his chest.

* * *

 

The next thing Viktor notices are Yuuri’s hips.

Viktor has always watched Yuuri’s hips. Ever since they had first met and Yuuri had ground his wonderful, elegant, drive-a-man-insane hips against him had Viktor been keeping a guilty eye out for the way the skater moved them, tilted them, even touched them. He remembers the day fondly when he had finally been able to dig his fingernails into those powerful muscles, drag Yuuri back by them and leave lurid bruises on them for the other to see in the shower.

Those hips still have power, just in new ways Yuuri is still testing. Viktor's eyes are on him every time he skates, as they usually were, but recently if asked for critique all that would come to mind would be “Oh you were perfect, just perfect, Yuuri! Amazing as always.” or “Maybe if you landed that just a little more to the left of that ad, I could have seen your cute butt better.”

Viktor can’t help it. Yuuri’s leggings are _so_ tight these days, and it's _so_ hard to focus on anything other than how his clothing shows off all his new curves in all the right ways. When Viktor's gets too out of hand, he knows Yuuri will pull him, quite literally, back to earth by the tie and try to get some real critique out of him.

Yuuri ends up buying new leggings, much to his husband's disappointment. And yet his new dance leggings were somehow even more captivating- sleek, black and _oh so_ fitted. They hug each twist and turn, every dip and curve of Yuuri's lower half. Paired with the tight white tee-shirt he wears, Viktor can very,  _very_ much appreciate the gentle tapering of Yuuri's soft waist and the indescribable outward flair of his hips. Paired so right with his plush thighs, it all adds to the deliciously pear shaped force to be reckoned with that is Yuuri Katsuki.

Even in the harsh florescent light of Minako's studio, Yuuri looks so magnetic. Every time he tries for a leap, or even so much as bounces with a step, Viktor’s eyes zero in on his lower half, watching the way it shakes and sways. It leaves the Russian dizzy.

"Viktor?" Yuuri calls, stopping mid rotation. "Are you okay?"

"Mh?" Viktor hums, wrenched from his trance and suddenly thrown back into reality. "Come again?"

"Are you alright?" Yuuri says again, lowering his limbs and leaning back against the ballet bar.

"Yes, perfect. Amazing." Viktor says all in a rush, "You're so beautiful, Yuuri, I got distracted."

"Oh." Yuuri grins. Even after all this time he still flushes with praise. "Thank you." He says politely.

Then he does something that nearly makes Viktor fall out of his chair.

It’s so like Yuuri to seduce without even trying, without even noticing he’s doing it. All he does is turn around, grasping the barre tight and arch his back inwards to stretch his calfs which in turn, pushes his hips out in a lewd display. He rises up to stand up on his toes, and _dear god_ he even has the audacity to roll his head back and groan ever so slightly, his eyes fluttering shut.

" _Gospodi_ ," Viktor breaths, taking in all that was this heavenly sight, "Yuurichka..."

Yuuri must not have heard him, or perhaps was willfully ignoring his husbands hushed prayers as he pushes away from the bar to begin his leaps again. He must not be noticing the way Viktor’s eyes are glued to his every move, every bounce, every jiggle that his supple body makes when he lands. The swell of his ass his irresistible when he turns,the way it's perfectly contoured by Yuuri’s new leggings, the way Yuuri’s pale hands glide over the velvety black material, probably just as soft as his skin. What Viktor would do just to have his own hands running over the other, digging his fingers in to test the soft give of his flesh for himself.

Viktor’s mouth somehow manages to salivate while feeling way too dry at the same time.

“Viktor?” His name dripping from Yuuri’s mouth is like angels’ choir. The man's eyes snap up to meet Yuuri’s in the mirror, and if he already hadn’t been flushed red from head to toe before, he certainly was now. Yuuri just smirks. “Do you want to help me stretch or do you just want to sit there and watch?”

“Of course, yes- yeah, I uh-“ Viktor stumbles over his worlds just as much as he stumbles over his own feet as he tried to get to Yuuri in as little steps possible.

“Yes, you want to help, or yes, you want to watch?” The young man laughs, like he knows exactly what he does to Viktor, as if this were some dirty little plan he’d had all along.

“Uh,” Viktor starts, his hands finally, _finally_ smoothing over Yuuri’s pliable ass. For a moment he's caught off guard as he presses down for just a second to feel all Yuuri has to offer in that moment. “Both?” It sounds so much more ragged than he'd intended. Viktor looks up to catch the other’s alluring smile, but it's short lived as Yuuri rolls his eyes and leans down on his arms against the barre, pushing his hips out and Viktor back with them.

Again, Viktor gets to run his hands over his lover, drag his nails down his hips, over his ass and caress down his thighs. He smoothly lifts one up, watching the way Yuuri's leggings bunch up where leg meets buttock. Viktor rests his free hand on Yuuri's hip squeezing gently as he raises his leg higher and higher. High enough to get Yuuri vocalize the stretch.

" _Ah-_ " Yuuri gasps, hanging his head forward and closing his eyes. "There, there," he whispers, arching in, "Viktor, _there_."

Viktor can’t help but groan low in his throat. Slyly, he grins and lifts the leg ever so slightly higher, enjoying the small thrills that chase each other up and down his back when Yuuri’s gasps become high pitched.

“Viktor-“

“Yuuri,” He drawls, letting the raised leg rest against his shoulder as he skates his fingertips down Yuuri spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Look at what you’ve done to me.” He purrs, grinding his hips forward into Yuuri. Viktor’s hard length is painfully obvious through his sweats, Yuuri can feel the outline pressing at him eagerly. Yuuri glances up in the mirror to find the eyes of a predator on him, as if he needed more proof of how crazy he made Viktor “You’re too powerful, my love.” the Russian says, groan turning almost into a growl.

“Am I, _Vitya_?”

A punched out groan leaves Viktor’s throat involuntarily at the syrupy sweet voice. His grip on the other falters, giving Yuuri the chance to slip his leg down and regain his position of leaning his arms and head against the barre. This time he looks back over his shoulder at Viktor, as if he were daring him to lose himself to Yuuri in this very public ballet studio. Yuuri meets Viktor's eyes once more and the younger cocks his head to the side, blowing Viktor the smallest of kisses.

He’s so weak for it. Viktor is so _weak_ for Yuuri, and he falls right into his trap. He grinds himself forward again, unrelenting and desperate to find even better purchase on him for his hands. He groans, pants and rolls against Yuuri, and _Yuuri_ , he lets him, lets him rut up against his ass like a teenager and even does so much as to lean up and whisper filthy promises against Viktor's jaw.

“Yuuri, Yuuri,” Viktor pleads, wheezing as he feels Yuuri’s hips languidly roll back against him, “I want you, please Yuuri. Please, let me-“

“You can’t.” Yuuri answers with a smile. “Not yet.”

“ _Yuurichka_ ,” Viktor whines, holding him tight, pressing harder and more indignantly.

“Minako would kill us.” Yuuri laughs, standing a little taller in a small attempt to wriggle away from him.

“It’s late, no one is here.” Viktor quickly reasons, rushing forward to latch kisses onto Yuuri’s neck and wrap his arms around his waist, “We can clean it up, I won’t fall asleep, I promise, Yuuri, please-“

“ _Wait, Vitya._ " Yuuri breaths against his ear. “Okay?”

Hands grab as Yuuri’s plush ass as if for dear life and a strangled whine leaves Viktor's mouth as Yuuri rolls his hips one last time.

“Can you wait?” Yuuri asks.

Only a strangled, “ _Yes._ ” leaves Viktor's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued???
> 
>  
> 
> (yall please listen to this cover of [anaconda](http://slightlycaptivated.tumblr.com/post/101307036600/this-will-be-one-of-the-snazziest-tunes-you-will) and think abt thick yuuri)


	2. he's callin me nyquil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this like....... got out of hand really fast…… i am out of control. i couldn’t decide between powerbottom yuuri and submissive yuuri so here we are. 
> 
> also wow I really can't believe all the nice things you guys have said, it really makes me so happy to see them!! 
> 
> (Btw, I have Yuuri's pet as Yuurichka because I was reading a breakdown of Russian diminutives and the person writing said it might be fun to have Viktor call him that, but since I do not speak Russian, i’m not sure. if anyone who knows a better/more accurate pet name hmu with that!!)
> 
> also as always recommended [musical accompaniment](http://slightlycaptivated.tumblr.com/post/101307036600/this-will-be-one-of-the-snazziest-tunes-you-will)

_“Wait, Vitya. Can you wait?”_

Those words buzz around Viktor’s head, echoing every time Yuuri opens his mouth to say something.

Viktor can wait. After all, he’s waited so long for Yuuri before- almost a year of wanting and shamelessly pressing his ear against the wall adjacent to the other’s room when he heard so much as a quiet snore late at night. He’s good at waiting. But does he want to?

He tries to make answer is obvious.

“Viktor!” Yuuri yelps as strong hands reach from behind him to grab as his plump hips. Even when he jerks away from them, they haul him back towards his husband, keeping their sides pressed close together.

“Yes?” Viktor draws the word out, his voice much to honeyed for Yuuri's liking. His hands touch all over him as they walk down the quiet road that ran through Hasetsu, acting like it's absolutely normal to be feeling up your spouse in the middle of the street.

“This is- wait, _fuck_ ,” Yuuri curses when he trips over Viktor’s own feet, “It’s hard to walk like this.” He emphasizes it by bumping his hips against Viktor’s, trying to separate them at least a little.

“It wouldn’t be if you’d stayed still.” his husband responds cheekily and it earns him a cute scowl. His hands brush up and down Yuuri’s side, each time delving into and out of his shirt and the waistband of his running shorts. He gives Yuuri’s ass a coy squeeze and noses behind the other's ear.

“Viktor!” Yuuri yelps, “Someone’s gonna-“

"It's past midnight, Yuuri," Viktor can't help but laugh at the feeble attempt of a glare Yuuri is making, "I'm pretty sure everyone in Hasetsu falls asleep before eight o'clock," he presses a kiss just right of the other's mouth, "No one's going to see us."

Yuuri pouts his lips in what was meant to be disapproving or something like it, but all Viktor can do is stifle a laugh when he sees it. “Didn’t I tell you to wait, Vitya?”

“You did.” Viktor purrs, relishing in how much power that pet name has over him

“ _So wait_.” The words are as crisp as frost even in the sweltering heat of summer. Yuuri pulls away from him, careful to be a little more than an arm's length in front of his husband for the rest of the way home.

Viktor doesn’t mind. He enjoys the view.

* * *

 

He may have the patience of a saint, but even Viktor has his limits. Slowly his restraint is wearing thin with each stalling tactic Yuuri uses- which seems to be all of them.

_"Wait, I'm hungry, I want to eat first."_

_"Wait, stop, Makkachin needs to go outside."_

_"Wait, we're so gross, we need to shower."_

Wait, wait, _wait_ is all that is coming out of Yuuri's mouth- not Viktor's name, not those pretty promises he'd made in the studio and especially not an invitation to shower _with_ him.

Viktor doesn't know how much longer he can wait.

It’s well past two in the morning when Viktor feels he’s losing his mind. Forty minutes ago, Yuuri had sauntered around in his bathrobe and it just so _happened_ to slip down past his shoulders, gracing Viktor with the glowing expanse of Yuuri’s back when the man had shut the door to Viktor’s room and headed to his shower. He’s losing his mind, he’s sure of it if that's all it took to get his heart racing. Yuuri Katsuki is making him go insane with every hushed innuendo and peek at his soft skin.

Viktor has done everything he can think of to prepare for Yuuri even down to making the bed three times in his restlessness. Slowly the hot coils in his stomach grow tighter, tighter, tight enough that Victor's leg bounces rapidly and the heat from them makes it impossible for him to concentrate on the one line of text he keeps rereading in the magazine Yuuri had left out.

When he hears the slide of the door and the click the lock that followed, Viktor nearly trips over himself for the second time that night when he leaps to his feet.

"You look eager." Yuuri muses, letting the green bathrobe slip from his shoulder _again_ as he steps past the Russian.

"Only for you." Viktor responds with lightning speed, following Yuuri around the room like Makkachin when it's supper time.

Yuuri shoots him a look from under his towel he uses to dry his hair. “Smooth.” He snorts, plopping down on the bed and throwing the cloth to worryingly large pile of laundry they have in the corner.

He looks ethereal in the dim light, warm and soft from his shower. The smell of the soap clings to his skin and fills Viktor’s nose in the best possible way, intoxicating him even further. Viktor is drunk off Yuuri- as if he ever wasn’t- he’s love drunk from the way Yuuri’s eyes are hotter than the August afternoon, the way Yuuri’s legs part ever so slightly, the way he can see those iridescent stretch marks branch out over his inner thighs.

Viktor drops to his knees so fast that they thud against the tatami mat below him. Yuuri raises his eyebrows with surprise, but his mouth slowly stretches into a pleased grin when Viktor lifts one of his feet, pressing a kiss to the top of it. Viktor knows that deep down Yuuri loves to be treated like royalty, no matter how many times he denies it. The tell tale blush and slow, shaking breaths continue when Viktor barely scrapes a fingernail against the arch of his foot and kisses it one more time.

Yuuri makes no move to stop him, so he continues with a smile. With each barely-there kiss on his husband’s foot, ankle and shinbone, Viktor keeps asking himself what god he’d made so happy that they had delivered this perfect person into his arms. Even if he had known, he wouldn’t worship then like he did Yuuri.

Viktor’s kisses turn wet, become hungrier, impatient. Once at Yuuri’s knee he sinks his teeth in, leaving faint pink teeth marks up Yuuri’s thigh. Each one is met with a small gasp and one more inch difference between how far apart Yuuri’s legs are. 

"Viktor," Yuuri says so quietly, he wonders if he was meant to hear it at all. Viktor feels a hand comb over his scalp, carding though his hair and holding him by it. He hides his laughter with a quick huff through his nose and he places a well meaning bite at softest part of Yuuri's thigh. The gentle hand sharply tugs Viktor's head back, craning his neck back to look up.

Again those eyes are on him, smoldering so hot, that they have an almost garnet shine to them. That smirk is back when his grip tightens on Viktor’s hair, pulling him directly where he wants him. Yuuri hooks a leg over Viktor’s shoulder and rolls his hips ever so slightly up.

“Yes, your majesty.” Viktor purrs against his hips, kissing everywhere except where Yuuri needs. Slowly, slowly, Viktor dances his hands up supple legs and paws at thick thighs, squeezing, touching, manipulating the sensitive skin there.

“Viktor.” Yuuri groans impatiently, jerking his hips up again.

“I know.” the Russian laughs, “I know, Yuurichka.” and yet he’s still teasing, mouthing at Yuuri’s erection, but never for too long, never long enough to keep Yuuri satisfied. He’s touch and go, milking those needy whimpers out of Yuuri one kitten lick at a time.

“Viktor!” Yuuri yanks at the man’s hair again, jerking his head back to look at him.

Yuuri, all golden and tender, falters. He hadn’t been expecting those warm ocean eyes to suddenly be so sharp. The predatory stare is back, raking up and down Yuuri like he’s some kind of meal and it shakes Yuuri to his core. It always does.

“You-“ Yuuri starts with a breath.

“You’ve become so spoiled, Yuurichka.” Viktor cuts him off with a husky voice from low in his chest. He places a tepid slap to Yuuri’s thigh and uses the other to glide under his robe, deftly undoing the ties and brushing it open. Again, he digs his hand into the softness of the younger’s stomach, his thighs, his hips. He’s unrelenting in his want to feel Yuuri everywhere, to make the other gasp and whimper with every squeeze. “What am I going to do with you?” He articulates slowly, punctuating it with another slap.

“Uh-“ Yuuri gulps thickly, paralyzed and all too aware of Viktor's changed demeanor. His pulse is so loud in his ears and the gentle caress of the hand at the back of his thigh does nothing to calm his heart. Viktor is _everywhere,_ hands over his body, mouth at his collarbones and neck, voice ingraining itself so deep in Yuuri’s head that he can’t speak.

“Well?” Viktor lands another smack and drags his nails over the growing pink print. It draws a bubbly cry from him as he twists his hands in the bedsheets tight. Yuuri’s legs tremble in anticipation when that gentle hand returns, smoothing over the stinging skin with false security. He only whines, squeezing his eyes tight, fighting more of those keening noises that try to claw their way out of his throat.

He feels so exposed, laid completely bare to Viktor. The man has ripped apart his robe and with it, the pretty, erotic and enticing persona he wore so nicely. Yuuri feels like prey under his husband’s hands, quivering and jumpy with adrenaline. He’s all bark and no bite, but _Viktor_ \- Viktor has both and Yuuri can’t tell which he loves more.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri uses the best whine he has, arching his back up and bringing a hand up to press against Viktor's jaw, “Take care of me, Vitya?” He asks in one last ditch effort to get back in charge. Viktor kisses his palm and each one of his fingers, stopping at the golden band that sat snuggly on his ring finger.

“That does sound tempting, _shekastik_.” comes the quiet whisper against his knuckles. “But one of us needs to have some self control.”

And just like that, Yuuri has lost all the remnants of control he thought he had when Viktor's hand volleys three slaps against supple skin. It shocks another cry out of him before Viktor is turning him over, slipping the other over his lap and pressing down between his shoulder blades to keep him still.

“Will you count for me?” He poses it like a question, but Yuuri knows better.

"But I don't know how many-" another slap shuts Yuuri's mouth.

"Then let's start over, yes?” Viktor says all too happy about it.

For a moment, Yuuri struggles with himself, wondering exactly when and how Viktor had gotten him so worked up from just teasing and slaps to his ass.

“One,” He breathes, pressing the side of his face firmly into the bed.

“There’s my good little _kotletka.”_

“Oh my god, Viktor don’t call-“ Another slap, another time Yuuri's mouth snaps shut. "Two." He groans after a moment of deliberation.

Viktor is relentless, soaking up all of Yuuri's gasps and cries as he rains down an irregular pattern of slaps, squeezes and petting. Yuuri can barely keep up with the Russian, that hand paired with the knee he’s rutting up against makes it hard for him to focus on anything other than his own arousal. He's reeling from the confusing and intoxicating pain and pleasure blend, it shoots right down to his toes, making them curl with every strike.

He’s not entirely sure how much time has passed when that gentle hand comes back, petting over rosy red skin and caressing between his thighs. Yuuri shudders as it pushes his legs apart slightly, brushing fingertips over where he needed them most.

“How many?” Viktor sings, walking fingers up Yuuri’s spine.

“Huh?”

_Slap!_

Yuuri cries out and answers immediately, “Ten! Uh- or, eleven?”

_Slap!_

“Twelve!” He sobs, lurching forward with the force of it.

“There we go.” It's insane how gentle yet dominating that voice can be. Yuuri needs it to praise him, tell him he’s done a good job- _is_ doing a good job.

“Viktor…” Yuuri whines, peering over his shoulder at the man.

“Mh? What is it, darling?” Viktor hums, smoothing over the sting in Yuuri’s backside with the palm of his hand, every so often grabbing the meat of it. Yuuri stays quiet, suddenly unsure of himself, resulting to rocking against Viktor’s lap to try to get his point across.

“You were so mouthy before,” Viktor laughs, and treacherously slowly moved his hands between Yuuri’s thighs, “What do you need?”

Yuuri swallows thickly and hesitantly rolls off Viktor’s lap and onto his back, peering at him with the best bedroom eyes he can muster. He guides Viktor’s hand over his torso, gripping his wrist to keep it in place as he moves it over his body, rocking up into it, drawing it up his chest and over his throat to lap his fingers. Two of them push past Yuuri’s lips and press at his lush tongue gradually.

“I see.” Viktor grins, positioning himself between Yuuri’s legs. He can’t keep his hands off him, he’s addicted to the way they sink into Yuuri, and yet can still feel the muscle that gives the other his definition and perk. As Yuuri sucks at his fingers like a man dying of thirst, he’s doing his best to beg with just his eyes. Yuuri knows it won’t be enough, but he damn sure is going to try.

“Yuurichka,” Viktor drawls, pressing his fingers hard enough into the other’s tongue for his eyes to prick with tears. “Speak.”

“Fuck me,” Yuuri says with a mouthful of fingers. He pulls them away with a wet gasp, but holds Viktor’s hand just under his chin, “Please fuck me, _Vitya_.”

Viktor can’t help the groan he makes. Yuuri is there, ready and wanting- flushed from head to toe and hooking his legs behind Viktor to draw him closer. He keeps making those noises, mewling, needy noises that are picking at Viktor’s patience again, begging him to let go and fuck Yuuri through the mattress, give him everything he ever wanted and worship him for the rest of Viktor’s pathetic life. For a moment he lets himself be, lets himself rock to Yuuri’s rhythm and feel the other’s hand palm against his erection.

“You want to, right?” Yuuri appeals, “Didn’t you want to, Vitya? You’ve been so good waiting for me.”

_Danger, danger, danger-_

“You can, come on,” Yuuri is rocking steadily, pulling Viktor closer, closer, “I got ready for you in the shower, you know. Come on, Viktor, “ He’s whining so breathlessly now, if Viktor doesn’t do _something_ , he’s a goner. 

_“Fuck me as hard as you can, Vitya.”_

“Yuuri,” Viktor wheezes, burying his face into the crook of the man’s neck, “Yuuri, please.”

“What?” he snickers, combing his nails down the back of Viktor’s neck and purring in his ear, “What is it, Vitya? Do you wanna fuck my thighs?” He can feel he jolt run though Viktor’s body. “Yeah?” Another laugh. “Do you like that? Do you wanna use me until you cum all over me?”

“Yuurichka-“ His strong hands reach down to claw into his hips. Viktor ruts against him, huffing into his shoulder and trying so hard to keep it together. Yuuri sighs and uses the hands running up and down Viktor’s nape to yank him up by the hair and knock their foreheads together.

“If you don’t do something right now, you aren’t going to get to do _anything_.”

The warning burns Viktor like fire and he leaps off Yuuri, scrambling for the lube he’d set out earlier. He can hear Yuuri’s tinkling laugher coming from behind him and it only gets louder when he whips around and crawls back to him.

“You look crazy.” Yuuri snorts, combing through Viktor’s hair to try to placate him.

“You make me crazy.” He replies, crowding Yuuri’s space and kissing him all over. “ _Gospodi,_ Yuuri, you drive me insane. Do you even know what you do to me?” He groans, gasping as he squeezes the cold gel over his aching cock and jerks his hand over it.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” Yuuri smiles, cupping Viktor’s face and kissing his furrowed brow. “Now _hurry up_.”

Viktor can’t move fast enough, multitudes of _yes, of course_ and _absolutely_ pour from his mouth with every _perfect, amazing_ and _beautiful_.

And at last, Viktor is leaning back, prying Yuuri apart with his thumb and sliding into that incredible heat. True to Yuuri's word, he's soft and open for Viktor, _so_ ready for his husband. The pulses around his thick cock are maddening, doing their best to shake Viktor loose from sanity.

“Yuuri, Yuuri,” He moans with every inch that moves him deeper. He bowing with the weight of his love for the other, he’s helpless when Yuuri looks at him just right and whispers that alluring little pet name in just the right way. Which is every way. All the time. Viktor can’t help himself, he’s just so weak for him.

Yuuri’s hands claw up his back when he sets a steady rhythm, dragging him forward and digging hard enough to leave red welts over his shoulder.

“Come on- C’mon Viktor,” He pants, kicking his heels against Viktor’s legs and rolling with him, “Harder, _harder_ , Vitya, come on, I know you can.” Yuuri is barely whimpering, yet it’s all Viktor can hear, “Fuck me harder, Vitya, _ahh_ , yes! Like that, please, Viktor!”

He’s losing himself, his mind is so foggy with everything Yuuri has to offer; Viktor's breaths are as heavy and shallow as his thrusts and he squeezes his eyes shut. This will all end too soon if Yuuri keeps looking at him like that, like Viktor is a god among men. His eyes are glassy and his mouth is open in a slack smile, saliva pooling at the sides and spilling down his chin.

“Viktor, Viktor,” He keeps moaning, “Viktor it's so good, don’t stop, Viktor please.” Each word is higher pitched than the last, until Yuuri’s voice is cracking so prettily under him.

Arms slink around Viktor's shoulders and pull him down with a surprising amount of force. “Gonna cum, Viktor- _ahh!_ Cumming, Vitya!” He whines right into Viktor's ear, and thats what does it.

Viktor can’t stop chanting Yuuri’s name as the fraying knot in his gut snaps with unbelievable force. After awhile, he’s not sure exactly what he’s saying, his mind is blank as he feels tight contractions around his cock, almost literally milking him for everything he’s worth. Yuuri pulls apart every fiber of Viktor’s being until he’s completely unraveled and at his wonderful, alluring mercy.

Eventually though, Yuuri puts him back together. He always does.

Viktor cracks his eyes open when something cold and wet touches his mouth. He draws his head away quickly and splutters as water cascades down his chin and over his chest.

“Sorry!” Yuuri yelps, pulling the bottle away and uses the sleeve of his robe to wipe Viktor up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah-“ Victor's throat is raw and he touches it which a grimace. “Did I die?” He says in a hoarse voice, rolling on his side to press his face into Yuuri’s belly. Above him he can hear a gentle chuckle and a hand begins to stroke his hair.

“For a moment I thought you did.” Yuuri muses, “Right after you came you sorta collapsed.”

“Oh.” Viktor murmurs. “Sorry.” He’s so tired, even his bones ache.

“It’s fine, don’t apologize. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Viktor nods into Yuuri’s middle, quiet for a moment before snorting with laughter.

“What?” Yuuri frowns, “What's funny?”

“That wouldn’t be a bad way to go.” Viktor cranes his neck back to smile wide at his husband. “Actually that's exactly how I want to die.”

“Oh my god.” Yuuri rolls his eyes and flops down on the bed, “Don’t ever say that ever again.”

This time Viktor’s laugh is full bellied and filled with love. He crawls up Yuuri’s side to wrap him up in his arms. “Thank you, my love.” He ghosts his breath over Yuuri’s ear and places kisses on every inch behind it. “You’re so good to me. Always so good to me.”

Yuuri just yawns and presses back against Viktor’s chest, “You too.” He mumbles, “You spoil me.”

“It’s fine as long as it’s in moderation isn’t it?”

Yuuri can’t disagree, that or he either doesn’t have the energy left to. Instead he rolls over and presses a small kiss to Viktor's chin before settling into his arms, content to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes. if any of y’all know me im so sorry  
> but also¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> shekastik- person w/ cute cheeks  
> kotletka- diminutive of cutlet  
> Gospodi- good god/dear lord


	3. boy-toy used to live in detroit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The power of ep. 12 left me WEAK. but now i wanna change this to post retirement but after they’ve competed against each other because honestly that is/was/will always be my dream????? anyway happy birthday my boy Viktor
> 
> (Also oh my god, i really didn’t expect to even get any attention on this and now +300 kudos??? are y’all kidding me rn??? thank you so much! I really do get excited when u guys say all those nice things, I’m so happy that everyone can enjoy some curvy yuuri in their lives, i love y’all )
> 
> ([music](http://slightlycaptivated.tumblr.com/post/101307036600/this-will-be-one-of-the-snazziest-tunes-you-will))

Yuuri doesn’t bother to turn around when hears the sound of the door to Viktor’s apartment swing shut and the excited scratching of claws on the wood. Before he can even think to, something big and furry is leaping at him, panting and shaking melted snow all over the kitchen.

“Hey you,” Yuuri grins, looking down at Makkachin and blowing him a kiss. The dog happily returns it, leaping up to lick at the man’s chin and whines loudly, unhappy that Yuuri’s hands are currently washing dishes and not petting his head like they should be.

“Makkachin, hey- watch it!" Yuuri laughs, shaking water from his hands and maneuvering the excited dog off him, “Ah! You’re so cold!” He laughs, feeling the ice over the poodle’s curls.

“He wanted to play in the snow.”

Viktor kneels down beside his husband and ruffles the left over snow off the dog, smiling fondly. His own hair is slowly becoming wet from it as well and ice clings to his scarf and jacket.

“And what about you?” Yuuri grins, pulling some of the snow free from his hair and brushing it off his shoulder.

“He looked lonely all by himself!” Viktor says like it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. “You should have seen him earlier, he was completely covered!”

“Did you take pictures?” Yuuri asks, standing back up to finish his chore.

“‘Did I take pictures’.” Viktor snorts, shucking off his coat and throwing it over the back of the couch, “Yuuri, look who you’re talking to. Makkachin might be even more famous on Instagram than I am."

“Is that so?” Yuuri hums over the sound of the sink.

He doesn’t get his answer.

“ _Yuuri._ ” Viktor’s voice is like ice on the back of Yuuri’s neck. It's colder than the wind chill had been when they had shopped for groceries in St. Petersburg this morning, and yet it lights a fire in Yuuri. The man stands behind his husband, leaning down to rest his chin on the other’s shoulder and place his hands lightly on Yuuri’s hips.

Yuuri tries his best to stop the shiver than runs down his back and continues with washing the plates from lunch. “Yeah?” He asks, cursing the tremor in his voice.

“ _Yuuri_ …” His mouth is right at Yuuri’s ear, hot breaths working their way into Yuuri’s brain and clouding his thoughts like fog. Viktor’s hands drag up over his sweatshirt and cling to him briefly before slipping back down again to crawl under the sweater to repeat the process.

“Viktor!” Yuuri gasps and the plate in his hands slips through his soapy fingers to clatter into the sink. The man’s hands are just like his voice, every spot where they meet Yuuri’s skin is freezing. "You’re cold!”

“I am.” He downright purrs, “I’m so cold, Yuuri. What can you do for me?”

Yuuri’s face burns with Viktor's words- he can’t decide whether he wants to groan at the barely disguised innuendo or turn around and kiss Viktor breathless.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” The tremor in his voice will _not_ quit.

“No,” comes the reply, “I don’t like baths that aren’t Yu-topia’s anymore.”

“Coffee?”

“No,” Hands trail feather light over Yuuri’s soft middle, circling his belly button.

“I could turn the heat up-“

“ _Yuuri._ ” Viktor says quiet but clearly into his ear, “What are you going to do for me?”

Freezing hands delve into the warmth between his tender thighs, wrenching a startled gasp from Yuuri.

“Viktor!” He squirms forward, pressing against the counter, but Viktor follows, “Viktor, _wait_.”

“Yuuri…” Viktor whines like a child, pressing frosty kisses to Yuuri’s neck.

“Makkachin is here!”

Viktor blinks and looks down, and true to Yuuri’s word, the poodle is sitting patiently, looking up at the two. Makkachin cocks his head and barks, bouncing up at the prospect of attention. As Yuuri presses his rosy face into his hands, Viktor frowns and pauses to think.

Before Yuuri can even look up, he’s being lifted off his feet and swept up into Viktor's arms.

“ _Viktor!_ ” He yelps for the thousandth time that day and throwing his arms around the man for support as his husband strides for their room. “Hey! I can walk!”

Viktor kicks the door closed and gracelessly throws Yuuri onto the bed before crawling over him. His hands push Yuuri’s sweater up and dig their frigid fingers into his sides as he leans down to press open, wet kisses over Yuuri’s chest. The electrifying mix of cold fingers and a hot tongue jolt Yuuri off the bed, arching up to meet Viktor.

“I don’t get it,” Yuuri groans, throwing an arm his eyes, “How are you still so strong?” He mumbles, reaching down with his other hand to feel around for one of Viktor’s biceps. The Russian pauses before letting a laugh spill from his throat.

“Really?” He asks, moving down to kiss at the airy plumpness of his belly. “Perhaps it’s because I don’t eat Yurio’s pirozhkies everyday, kotletka.”

“I can’t help it!” Yuuri whines, “He keeps making new ones and he’s getting better every time he makes them!”

“Greedy little thing.” Viktor murmurs with a smile, pinching pudge of Yuuri’s sides to get a giggle out of him, “You need to learn some control, Yuurichka.”

“Cold!” Yuuri breaths through his laughter, again wriggling away from Viktor’s hands, but they only pull him back, holding him still as Viktor keeps leaving those snowy kisses over his torso. His lips are so quick and light that it shocks Yuuri when they reach his nipples, licking, sucking and nipping at them. Yuuri bucks up more in surprise than anything else, only to be pinned roughly down by Viktor’s own hips.

“ _Cold._ ” Yuuri whines again, breaths becoming more shallow with each bite.

“What are you going to do for me, Yuurichka?” Yuuri can’t take the way Viktor is looking at him right now, so sweet but dangerous. They make him squirm with how perceptive they are, seeming to catch Yuuri off guard in anything that he does.

“I don’t know,” He goes for the sheepish route as always, but a sharp bite around his nipple quickly corrects him. “Keep you warm?” He tries again in a whimper, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Thats better,” Viktor drawls, peppering Yuuri collar bone, neck and jaw with kisses, “And how are you going to do that?” He stops just short of Yuuri’s mouth and dodges each time the other tries to steal a kiss from him.

“Vitya…” Yuuri appeals in that sultry tone that always means trouble. He brings his hands up to brush over Viktor’s sharp jawline, but they're pushed back and pinned against soft sheets but much stronger ones.

“ _What are you going to do for me, Yuuri?_ ” This time, Viktor’s voice is pitched much lower, rumbling up from his chest and reverberating off of Yuuri’s bones. That gentle way Viktor has about making Yuuri completely dissolve in his arms has him _woozy_ and those confusingly icy aquamarine eyes just make it _worse_.

Yuuri flushes red and squeezes his eyes shut tight, but Viktor only kisses them gently before sucking two hickies onto his neck. "What did you think of just now, darling?" He asks right up against Yuuri's ear. "What do you want to do for me?"

“ _Let you use me_.” It's astonishing to Yuuri how he can speak with his heart hammering in his throat, and yet his shaky reply still makes Viktor’s chest swell.

“Good answer.” Viktor smiles bright and Yuuri buzzes with the praise. He can’t help but grin even as Viktor’s cold hands strip him bare and let his skin crawl with goosebumps. He lets out a shaky moan as Viktor’s nails graze over his chest and middle, right down to the tops of his thighs. He wants to grab those hands, make them touch him with more intensity, make them squeeze, grope and claw with desperation, but he knows it won’t do any good now. Viktor has him paralyzed with anticipation, eager for praise and validation.

“You’re so beautiful.” Viktor says under his breath, “Look at you, So tender and yet…” He trails off as he dips his fingers down into Yuuri’s thighs for just a moment to feel the muscle beneath them. “ _Gospodi_ _Yuuri_ , you’re so vivid.”

“Vivid?”

“Mh,” Viktor is getting distracted, inadvertently teasing Yuuri as he lets his hands wander and caress, fingertips tracing each silver stretch mark he comes across. “Everyday Yuuri, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He mutters, gathering his husband’s legs and pushing them off to one side, effectively twisting him. It's this flexibility that drives Viktor mad, his flexibility and grace- Yuuri has never once stopped being the enticing skater he has always been, it's now just augmented by seductive curves and warm thighs. “It takes so much effort to stop thinking about this.” Viktor makes himself clear by landing a perfect slap to Yuuri’s ass.

Yuuri cries out and twists his body further when he arches his back, each hand clinging at the sheets beside his head.

“ _Like that_.” Viktor groans, landing another slap, earning another moan. He squeezes the pliant flesh, enough that his fingernails leave little red half-moon prints there. “Do you know how hard it is to get that out of your head?”

Yuuri shakes like a November leaf, his chest heaving with big breaths. “Vitya,” He whimpers, reaching up to tug at the man’s sweater. Viktor catches his hand and kisses his ring, giving Yuuri a coy wink. His eyes trail Yuuri's body for a few moments before zeroing in on Yuuri's face with such integrity, it startles him.

“I want to take a picture of you.” Viktor confesses all at once, “Please may I, Yuuri? Please?”

Yuuri’s eyebrows shoot up and his shoulders lurch, “Picture?” He repeats, “Of me? Now?”

“Yes, and preferably later.” Viktor’s bends over him, pressing appealing little kisses over his mouth and neck, “I want to remember this forever.”

“What happened to me being so vivid?” Yuuri says petulantly. “I don’t want Chris to see my nudes.” He quickly adds, narrowing his eyes at his husband.

“I wouldn’t dare!” Viktor pulls back, but grips Yuuri even harder, “Yuuri, I won’t, I promise!” He whines, over exaggerating his pout; he even has the pluck to get his eyes to water. Somehow, those diamond-like crocodile tears still needle at Yuuri’s uncertainty, picking through his guard one pouted plea at a time.

Yuuri covers his face again and sighs. “You get three.”

He can’t believe he really just agreed to this, and he's trying very, _very_ hard to ignore the sparks in his gut that flare up when he thinks about Viktor out somewhere- walking Makkachin, doing groceries- scrolling through his pictures and having to hide his head-to-toe blush he gets when he stumbles across those three photos.

“Perfect!” Viktor covers him in kisses, brushing Yuuri's hands away and cupping his cheeks, kissing them too. “Oh, shekastik, you’re so sweet to me! So kind, so beautiful!” He keeps spewing praise, making Yuuri’s heart do backflips as he digs into his back pocket for his phone.

“Right now?” Yuuri splutters as Viktor sits up and parts Yuuri’s legs to sit between them. Yuuri’s hands jump to his face again and he can feel the burn of his cheeks against his palms. Viktor only laughs and looks out from behind his phone.

“Of course, shekastik! Smile!” He says it like he’s taking a picture of the dog, or Yuuri skating, or anything that _was not_ Yuuri buck naked in bed with his legs spread. Yuuri closes his eyes just as he hears Viktor’s phone make that annoying shutter sound that he refuses to turn off. He claims it makes it feel more authentic, and in times like these it drives Yuuri nuts.

“Oh, you closed your eyes.” Viktor frowns, “We should retake-“

“That counts as one.” Yuuri cuts him short, covering his face with his arms. Quickly however, he feels Viktor’s hands- somehow still colder than his- pull at them and press kisses to his plush inner bicep.

“Of course, darling.” Viktor soothes, and that voice makes Yuuri melt all over again. He’s much faster paced this time when he kisses Yuuri, hungrier for him as his kisses become wet, and then become bites. All of a sudden his head is between Yuuri’s thighs, kissing, nipping and swallowing Yuuri whole, making the other writhe and gasp his name. Viktor’s motions are smooth and practiced, he knows exactly where and how to push those pretty buttons that make Yuuri into a complete _mess_ for him.

All too soon, Yuuri is begging.

“Viktor- _Vitya!_ Ahh, please, _don’t stop!_ ” He moans, his thighs press against Viktor’s ears and both hands are threaded tight in his hair. Viktor just hums his laughter, sending soul shaking vibrations though Yuuri’s dick. The man arches his back and brokenly yells, tilting his head back with a sloppy grin on his face. Curling his toes, Yuuri rolls his hips up while the hands in Viktor’s hair press down. He’s so close, if only Viktor would _stop_ with those feathery licks and actually give him-

“ _Viktor_.” Yuuri groans, yanking Viktor’s head forward by the hair. With a bone rattling suck, Viktor pushes Yuuri’s legs back in place and pops off with a wet sound. “Vitya! _No_ , I was gonna-“

“Cum?” Viktor finishes his sentence for him, “Without even telling me, Yuurichka?” He feigns hurt, “Have you forgotten your promise already?”

Yuuri’s jaw snaps shut only opening just enough to bite his plump bottom lip. Viktor’s eyes bore holes into him and if Yuuri were any father gone, he seriously wonders if that alone could make him cum.

“What was that promise, _Yuuri?_ ” Victor draws his name out in a little song, reaching up to pull that lip out from between his teeth with a thumb.

“You were- You were going to…” Yuuri’s voice is in shambles.

“Going to?” Viktor urges in a hushed voice.

“ _Use me_.” Yuuri barely whispers, but its enough for the Russian.

“That right, darling.” Viktor smiles, pulling away from Yuuri’s warmth to dig lube out from their cluttered beside table. He comes back with a smile so sharp, Yuuri can feel it dig into his very being. “Do you know what I think the warmest part of you is, Yuuri?” He asks, popping the cap open.

“No.” Yuuri says in a small voice.

“I think,” Viktor says slowly, luridly drizzling the cold gel over his fingers, “It's right here.” He ends, slapping his hand over the inside of Yuuri’s thigh. Yuuri nearly leaps off the bed, an unhinged cry jumping out of his throat.

“Viktor! That's cold!” He yelps, but the last word is quickly followed by a longer, drawn out moan as Viktor’s hands knead and claw into the meat of his sensitive thigh. Distantly, Yuuri hears the sound of Viktor’s belt coming undone and the drag of his zipper, but it’s too hard to focus on anything other than how Viktor’s slick hand is palming over his needy cock, giving it teasing strokes when Yuuri bucks up for more. Viktor keeps building him up, pushing him so dangerously close to the edge, then dragging him back when his hand leaves to caress his gentle inner thighs again. It’s driving Yuuri crazy.

He whines when the hands retreat to pull his legs up to press together and he hasn’t noticed that he’s closed his eyes until Viktor prompts him to open them.

“Yuuri,” Viktor purrs, teasing the head of his member against the seam of where Yuuri’s lush thighs fit together, “Look up, kotletka.”

Yuuri eyes blink open to look at the back of Viktor’s phone dazedly. His legs are hoisted over Viktor’s right shoulder, shut tight together in an almost demure way. He brings his hands up to grasp at the sheets beside his head, anxiously twisting them in his fingers all while his eyes wander up to his husband’s partially obscured face.

“Hurry, Vitya.” he whispers.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor groans, peeking out from behind his phone, “Say that one more time, please.”

Yuuri pauses, focusing on his breathing before keening, “ _Hurry, Vitya_.” just as he hears the shutter sound.

Immediately the phone is tossed aside and Viktor is thrusting between Yuuri’s thighs, using his legs at a stable leverage as he leans over. He’s so quick to set up a brutal pace, his hands coming to aid Yuuri in squeezing his legs shut even tighter and he moans as Yuuri starts to rhythmically flex them. His name drips from Viktor’s mouth like honey, sweet and sticky.

“Viktor, please, please.” Yuuri whines, blinking long eyelashes up at him. He’s not quite sure what he’s begging for, but he knows how much Viktor loves hearing that word on his tongue. “Am I good, Vitya?”

“ _Gospodi_ ,” Viktor sounds wrecked, he stares down at Yuuri with a wild look, “I should have asked for a video,” He grunts, “You’re _incredible_ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s already giddy face splits into a smile, his belly filling with pride as he watches Viktor come completely undone by him. The man’s grunts turn to groans which slowly lose themselves more and more to his husband. He’s ragged and gripping Yuuri so hard that it will definitely leave bruises later.

The tenderness of Yuuri drives Viktor wild. While his husband may seem all soft bodied and pliant, he still maintains much of his muscle mass from his days as a competitive skater. Especially in his thighs. Each time Yuuri tenses them on every outward thrust, it rips a moan from Viktor. That soft, velvety skin draws him in while the strength beneath them keeps him there, begging him to stay.

After a particularly broken moan, Yuuri brings this hand up to stroke over and under Viktor’s jaw.

“Are you cumming?” he says it like sugar and Viktor makes the mistake of looking down. Yuuri has his chest out, and his eyes are focused on Viktor, _only_ on Viktor. He looks like he’s in love all over again, rosy red and eyes so soft they nearly match the rest of his body. He can see the faint red marks of his bite around Yuuri’s nipple from earlier and little pink dots litter his collarbone. He just looks so _pleased_ that it makes Viktor’s heart hurt.

“Yes,” Viktor moans, his eyes falling shut, “Yes, _Yuuri, yes-_ “ He just keep repeating himself, chanting his name like a mantra until he can’t anymore, his hips moving on their own as he covers Yuuri’s torso and thighs with thick, translucent cum, marking him absolutely and truly as his.

Yuuri wriggles under him, sneaking a hand down to jerk at his needy, leaking cock between them. In his post-orgasm daze, Viktor just watches, spellbound by the gorgeous man below him, but eventually his eyes light up in the way that makes Yuuri worry.

“Viktor?” He mewls, following him with his eyes as the man scrambles around the bed. Viktor returns quickly after with his phone and spread’s Yuuri’s legs again.

“Come on, Yuurichka.” Viktor cajoles, sending tremors up Yuuri’s spine, “You’re such a sweetheart, Yuuri. Cum for me.”

Yuuri can’t help but stare at that phone, even as his eyes cross into over sensitivity, even as helpless cries spring from his mouth. His hand moves against his better judgment, finally pushing him off that edge Viktor had so cruelly dangled him over. Somewhere, he hears the camera go off, but closer he can hear a low groan from Viktor as stars blossom over Yuuri’s vision.

After Yuuri’s been cleaned and fed, Viktor lays beside his husband, staring wide eyed at his phone. He keeps muttering little things in Russian that Yuuri wants to understand,but is too embarrassed ask about.

“What?” He says tentatively. “Do they look weird?”

“ _God, no._ ” Viktor says, tearing his eyes away from the screen. “Do you want to see? Oh Yuuri, _look_ at you!” He presses the phone into Yuuri’s face anyway, swiping through them at lightning speed. It's like a miniature movie, a before, during and after photoshoot of Yuuri submitting entirely to Viktor’s whim.

In the first, his hands cover his red face, but between his fingers Yuuri can see his eyes are shut tight. It would have been embarrassing seeing himself naked, if not for the two other photos. Not only was he naked in these, but in each he made no moves to cover himself. Instead his hands were too busy clinging to the bed sheets for dear life or touching over himself to do anything but let Viktor have his way with him.

In the last, his eyes are crossed and his face he could only describe as _giddy_. Viktor had managed to capture him right as he came, stroking himself to completion and already covered in Viktor’s cum.

“Oh my god.” Yuuri smashes the phone into Viktor’s chest and covers his face, “Oh my god, Viktor- _Oh my god_.”

“I know!” Viktor sounds like a child at Christmas. “Oh _Yuuri_ , and to think you had thought you had no Eros, and now just look at you!" he practically squeals, shoving the phone at Yuuri again. The man just buries his face into Viktor’s chest and takes a deep breath.

“If you send that to _anyone_ , I _am_ divorcing you.” He grinds out between his teeth. 

“What about Makkachin?”

Viktor’s phone gets thrown across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi my name is beetle and i love italicizing too much and specifically these pet names
> 
> shekastik- person w/ cute cheeks  
> kotletka- dominative of cutlet  
> Gospodi- good god/dear lord
> 
> (Also u KNOW Viktor has taken some really cute but embarrassing pictures of Yuuri and sent them to everyone to brag)


	4. came dressed to kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes…………..
> 
> also ended up making this one a few years after they retire. I may edit the previous chapters to be like that as well just fyi
> 
>  
> 
> [musical accompaniment](http://slightlycaptivated.tumblr.com/post/101307036600/this-will-be-one-of-the-snazziest-tunes-you-will)

Viktor can't believe his luck.

No, it's not luck. Viktor has been truly, _truly_ blessed to have this happen to him here on this day in this very hotel room.

He just sits there, his mind trying and failing to comprehend the sight in front of him. He almost looks agitated with his hands in front of his face, pressed together as if he were praying and his brow furrowed.

"What?" Yuuri mumbles, hunching his shoulders over. He curls in on himself, arms slowly reaching to cover his body. "It's weird, isn't it? I told you it would be weird!"

Yuuri, gorgeous Yuuri, stands in front of Viktor with his legs pressed tight together in nervousness and clad in sheer, see through black tights. A dark seam runs all the way up the sides of his legs, over his hips and stops at the high waisted top. Beneath them, Yuuri wears a simple pair of black underwear, similar to the ones Viktor owns, that pinch into his full hips just as much as the waistband of the tights do to Yuuri’s soft middle. To top it all off, to add icing onto this erotic cake in front of him, Yuuri wears a long chain of jewels, glittering in the low light of their hotel room. It's costume jewelry, probably plastic or cheap glass, but to Viktor they may as well have been diamonds. He makes a mental note to buy Yuuri diamonds.

"I'm taking it off, this was a horrible idea." Yuuri groans, wrapping his arms more securely over his exposed middle.

"No!" Viktor nearly yelps and it's so sincerely that it startles Yuuri. "No, please, you look incredible." He just keeps gawking at his husband, hypnotized by the black line up his leg and the twinkling of his necklace. 

"Are you sure?" Yuuri mummers, looking down at himself, "It's tight. I don't know..."

"I should have made you skate in this." Viktor blurts out under his breath. "I _should_ have made you skate in this, what was I _thinking_?" 

"Viktor!" Yuuri, who was already blushing from ear to ear, turns even redder, the flush spreading right down to his chest. "No! Who would have wanted to see that?"

"Me." Viktor says quickly, his eyes too distracted by _that seam_ leading him up and down Yuuri’s leg to actually look at his husband. "Everyone. The entire world- but especially me." He brings his hands up to tentatively brush his fingertips over Yuuri's hips.

Something on Yuuri's hip catches his eye and he notices that the underwear Yuuri wears isn’t at all like the ones he owns. It's hard to see underneath the sheerness of the stockings, but fine, delicate lace trims the edges of the fabric and spiral over into quiet, intricate patterns.

Viktor slides off the sofa and kneels in front of Yuuri, his hands much bolder now, touching and squeezing over where the fabric bit into Yuuri's skin. He feels as if he’s handling spun silver, woven divinely together into this curvy work of art.

"You look happy." He hears Yuuri say from above him. He still sounds unsure, nervous of god knows what. Hands thread through silver locks and brush back Viktor's bangs when he graces the Russian with a timid smile. "It really looks good?"

"Yes, god _yes_ , Yuurichka." Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri's waist and pulls him close. "Thank you, shekastik, you're too good to me." He places kisses at the hem of his tights, lining them along the edge with a praise or a thank you or some little word in Russian that Yuuri can’t understand, and soon the younger man is covering his face, his ears almost glowing red.

“Viktor.” Yuuri laughs, brushing a hand over Viktor’s jaw to tilt it back. 

"Yes, Yuuri?" He's absolutely smitten.

"We have to leave soon. Go get dressed."

"But do we?" Viktor whines, smoothing his hands up Yuuri's back, "Do we _really_ have to?"

Yuuri curls his lips in that knowing little smile, the one that gets Viktor out of his warm bed everyday or back into his clothes when he's drunk. "Yes." Yuuri says, reaching behind him to untwist Viktor's arms from around him. "Do you remember last year when we didn't go to Yurio's birthday party?"

"It was just a small thing, it wasn't even _catered_ -"

"Exactly. And do you remember how long he was mad about it?"

" _Yuurichka!"_ Viktor whines, nuzzling into the barely there bump of Yuuri's pelvic bone. "This isn't even a party _for_ him! It's the GPF banquet- it's for _everyone_! And we both hate going, don't we?"

"Yeah, but Yurio won gold this year."

"Yurio wins gold _every_ year!" Viktor's whining becomes drawn out as he slumps further into dramatics. 

"We came all this way to watch, and you don't even want to congratulate him?" 

Viktor huffs a heavy, vocal sigh and presses his face further into Yuuri's hip. "Will you wear this?" He asks, plucking at the tights.

"Viktor! There are people there! With phones! And cameras!" Yuuri splutters, sounding absolutely scandalized.

"That hasn't stopped you before." Viktor peeks up at his husband with a razor sharp smirk.

"One time." Yuuri fires back. "That was one time, and I don't even remember-"

"Two! It was two times! The reception at our wedding!" 

"Oh my god," Yuuri pulls his hands back to cover his blush that was coming back at full force. "Please just get dressed." He says, slipping the necklace over his head and setting it on the bedside table.

* * *

 

"Yurio!"

Yuuri hangs off the stiff boy and giggles in his face, causing Yuri to wrinkle his nose at the stench of alcohol rolling off his tongue.

"Get off! God, why are _both_ of you like this?" He scowls, elbowing hard at Yuuri's middle. "You're heavy!"

"I'm just so proud of you!" Yuuri slurs, unabashed by the elbow digging into his side. "You looked so amazing out there, your step-sequences were incredible!"

"Yeah well," Yuri's scowl twitches into an ever so slight smile, "I know that already." He can't hide his proud sheepishness from Yuuri.

"Yura!" On his other side Viktor grins, red faced from champagne. "Let's take a picture, okay? A picture! Smile!" He jams his cheek against the younger Russian, snapping a sloppy picture in his phone.

" _Get off!_ " Yuri growls, the small smile from before gone in an instant. "You two are so embarrassing!" He wriggles out of Yuuri's death-grip, panting and disheveled.

Viktor, who stumbles over into Yuuri in Yuri's absence, just gulps down whatever is left in his champagne flute. "Uh-oh," he sings, "We made him mad."

Yuri fumes, "Just get it together!" He points at the pair, "I don't care how! Just-!" Yuri growls something unintelligible, clenching and unclenching his fists. " _Fix him!_ " He snaps at Yuuri before stalking away.

"Come on," Yuuri laughs so gently in Viktor's ear. "He's right, you're getting sloppy, Mr. Nikiforov." 

" _Mr. Katsuki_ ," Viktor's tipsy laugh is infectious, "Are you trying to take me away from the party?"

"I've already taken you from the whole world, so why not?" Yuuri grins as he almost literally drags Viktor out of the ballroom and towards the bathrooms

"Mr. Katsuki!" Viktor gasps melodramatically. 

"Do you have a problem with that?" Yuuri hums against Viktor's neck, steering him away from the men's room and towards one of the single stall bathrooms.

" _Greedy_."

Viktor's hands are all over Yuuri before the bathroom door even swings shut. He can't help himself, Yuuri has been so teasing, so touch and go all night while pouring Viktor full of champagne. He feels as bubbly as the drink in his belly, giddy from Yuuri and shameless from alcohol. His thoughts are clouded by it and all the ones that weren’t were focused on Yuuri Katsuki. And Yuuri Katsuki doesn't play fair. 

While Viktor downed glass after glass- all handed to him by his dear husband- Yuuri's had slowly sipped his champagne, careful to keep himself from tipping into what Chris has dubbed his "Sochi Side". Though not so careful that he would keep himself from luring his husband into this bathroom to fool around like teenagers.

Pushing the man against the door, Viktor sinks to his knees and makes his hands busy by tugging Yuuri's shirt out of his waistband. 

"Gonna make you feel so good," he slurs, cheeks burning from the heat from Yuuri and the champagne bubbling in his blood. 

"Wait- ahh, Viktor hold on!" Yuuri giggles, clumsy hands pulling at the others hair. "You can't!" He says behind a snicker when Viktor rips his belt open and undoes his fly at lightning speed.

"Why not?" Viktor purrs against his hip, staring up. "Are you afraid of someone finding the great Yuuri Katsuki getting the best head he's ever had in his whole life here in this bathroom?"

Yuuri’s breath shudders at the thought- at the _sight_. Viktor Nikiforov, multiple time champion figure skater, the most unavailable and yet most desirable man on the planet dressed in a disheveled suit and his hair messy, on the floor in front of him with a red face and swollen lips, taking everything he could from Yuuri.

“Not at all." Yuuri hums softly, petting under Viktor's chin and tilting it up. Viktor raises his eyebrows, fighting down the fire in him that roars at this unexpected, _possibly_ exhibitionist side of his husband. "You can't because you'd have to take all my clothes off to get there first."

He pushes away Viktor's hands and thoroughly perplexed face. He leans down to fumble with his zipper and pushes down his slacks to mid-thigh.

Viktor falls back to sit on his calfs, gawking at Yuuri. Everything that was Yuuri.

Those sleek black tights almost shine in the low fluorescent light of the single stall bathroom and _dear lord_ do they make Yuuri look _divine_. He even still has on the small pair of lacy undergarments from before, though no jewelry. Viktor makes mental note to buy him jewelry. 

“Yuuri.” Viktor groans, “Yuuri, _Yuuri._ ” He presses his face against Yuuri’s hip, sinking wet bites into the sheer fabric. His tipsy brain can’t process much else other than his husband’s name and the hands stroking over his cheekbones. 

“Vitya.” Yuuri is tugging his hair, his tie, anything that will bring the Russian to his feet. Viktor can only follow, eager to please and ready for whatever Yuuri has to give. He crowds his husband’s space, even as the man maneuvers them around, switching spots.

This time, Yuuri sinks to his knees, keeping a close eye on Viktor's while his nails graze over the man's torso and thighs. Slowly, meticulously, Yuuri pulls apart Viktor's belt, unbutton his fly and push at the zipper.

"I can't believe this," Viktor says, barely above a hoarse whisper. He really can't. He really can't believe that all night, under his sharp suit that Viktor had bought him, Yuuri had been wearing those stockings. He had _talked_ to people, taken _pictures_ , _danced_ and all the while he sported that pretty present just for Viktor under his slacks.

"Mmh?" Yuuri hums against his briefs, sending a vibrating shock straight to Viktor's heart. "You asked me to, so..." He murmurs, pushing his glasses up into his swept back hair. 

" _I did, my god, I did._ " Yuuri hears Viktor groan in Russian. 

Yuuri can't help the laugh that tumbles past his lips, but quickly stifles it when he mouths against Viktor's half hard length. Through the fabric, Yuuri can feel it twitch against his lips. His tongue quickly finds the head and gives it a pleasant suck before turning his mouth up to smile at Viktor.

"You'll be the death of me, darling." Viktor groans under his breath. 

Yuuri answers with his mouth, latching back onto the wet spot he had made as his hands crawl up Viktor's legs to pull him fully out. His eyes never leave Viktor, blinking slowly in contrast to his quick movements. He wastes no time as he presses hurried, burning kisses to Viktor's dick and takes the head into his mouth, rolling his velvet tongue against him. Only when he sinks his head down in one smooth, debilitating movement does Yuuri flutter his fiery mahogany eyes shut

"Yuuri-" Viktor whines, digging his fingers into the other's scalp. His gelled hairstyle comes apart fast in his hands as Yuuri pushes ever forward and cracks watery eyes open to peer up at his husband. 

"Yuuri," Viktor says again, " _Yuurichka_ , you're going to choke." The warning is empty, but even then it falls on deaf ears. Yuuri's taking Viktor's cock like he _wants_ to choke, like he _wants_ Viktor fucking right up against his throat. Which he _does_.

Yuuri closes his eyes again, bobbing his head and clawing his nails into Viktor's thighs. He's breathing hard through his nose as Viktor sinks forward and back into Yuuri's mouth, unable to help his small, stuttering thrusts. Yuuri only hums in appreciation, which in turn hurtles Viktor way to close to the finish line. 

He pulls at Yuuri's hair, speaking in no more than whimpers and monosyllable moans. Occasionally Yuuri's name will wrestle itself past his lips, but only in broken gasps. It's way too soon, Viktor is going to cum faster than he has in his entire life and it's all because of this enthusiastic little skater in front of him.

"Yuuri, wait." He wheezes, knees shaking as Yuuri hums deep in his chest, pairing it with a well timed suck. "Wait!" Viktor pleads, his hips jerking up involuntarily.

Yuuri pulls back with an obscenely loud noise and gasps for breath. He splutters out a wet cough before pressing back, nuzzling his face against Viktor's leaking cock. 

"What?" He smiles with red, pouty lips. "Too good?"

" _Yes_." Viktor's panting is out of control, the alcohol and Yuuri's seduction proving too much for his glass heart. "Yuurichka, what's gotten into you?"

"You." Yuuri smirks at his own joke and mouths against Viktor. "Do you want more?"

The Russian only stares at Yuuri- burning and electric- before he nods, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face.

"What do you say?" Yuuri throws Viktor's well used words right back at him with a know-it-all voice and a blinding smile.

"Yes," Viktor’s need to be obedient over rules his need to be quiet, "Yes  _please,_ Yuuri..."

His husband kisses the head of Viktor's cock sweetly as if it were some reward before purring against it, "Don't take your eyes off me."

Viktor doesn't have time to say yes. He doesn't even have time to nod. He doesn't have time to do anything but let a moan tear through his throat as Yuuri swallows Viktor whole in one move, the tip of his nose bushing against platinum hair. He fights to keep his eyes open but Yuuri's fluttering throat does its best to crack his resolve.

"Yuurichka- _Yuuri_ , slow down." Viktor's voice is needy, slurred and somehow a little anxious. Yuuri peeks up and pulls away but brings his hands up to cover where his mouth doesn't. A ragged whine leaves Viktor's mouth, soon followed by hummed laugher from Yuuri. It makes Viktor's back arch and he wrings Yuuri’s hair between his fingers.

" _Yuurichka_ ," Viktor whimpers, "Mercy, please."

Yuuri blinks slowly, _innocently_. He blinks those big brown eyes at Viktor before descending back down inch by inch, his tongue deceptively sweet as his fingers circle the base of Viktor's cock. They squeeze ever so slightly, gaining more and more pressure the more Yuuri swallows Viktor down until he's tapping right at the back of his husband's throat. 

Yuuri Katsuki really will be the death of him, Viktor thinks. Yuuri is going to very literally suck the soul right out of his body and Viktor is helpless to do anything other than try to desperately control his shaking voice. 

It's not long after that Yuuri has Viktor begging. He pulling at Yuuri's hair and scrabbles at his vice like fingers around his dick. Pretty pleas drop from his mouth like rain in every language Viktor knows, but Yuuri only soaks them up with laughter in his eyes. But finally, _finally_ Yuuri pulls away, flexing his fingers around Viktor. He opens that lush mouth, pressing Viktor's cock against his velvet tongue and squeezes his hand. 

Yuuri only needs to stroke up once before Viktor loses it. Thick white ropes splatter over Yuuri's lips, cheeks and mouth. The man licks up every last drop that lands on his tongue and thankfully has the presence of mind to wipe up what ever drips past his chin, threatening to stain his clothes. 

A handful minutes of panting later, Viktor lets his hand drop from Yuuri's hair and whispers, "I thought you were supposed to be cleaning me up."

"Didn't I?" Yuuri says, giving Viktor's softening length a final kiss before dressing the man with much kinder hands. 

"No." He replies petulantly. "Now we're both a mess." He wipes at the drying cum under Yuuri's left eye. 

"Are you at least a little more sober?" Yuuri asks, getting to his feet once Viktor is taken care of and pulling a few paper towels from the dispenser to wipe his face.

"Not sure. But if I am, I want to change that." Viktor mumbles, tugging the towels from Yuuri's hands to do the job for him.

"Yurio's gonna hate us." He says it with a smile.

"He'll get over it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y i k e s………………... this may have a pt2. competing chapter titles were "ain't missin no meals" for obvious reasons and "keepin me stylish" because I would die for sugar daddy Viktor HC
> 
> (also!!! every time I get one of yalls comments?? I ascend to heaven, thank u so much for all your kind words and kudos!)


	5. keepin me stylish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shows up seven years later w/ coffee and this chapter  
> here is the sugar daddy Viktor yall. i’m sorry if it gets a little messy/ramble-y, i have a lot of feeling about spoiling yuuri and the writers block is r e a l………………
> 
> also have yall seen Yuuri's [tie](http://kukapanda.tumblr.com/post/158237649469/i-heard-they-changed-yuuris-tie-in-the-blu-ray) in the BluRay because good lord.
> 
> [music](http://slightlycaptivated.tumblr.com/post/101307036600/this-will-be-one-of-the-snazziest-tunes-you-will)

Viktor uses the word "soft" too often when he describes Yuuri. Soft in his heart when he cries, soft smiles when he's showered with praise, soft to the touch whenever Viktor can't keep his hands to himself.

Soft is how he likes Yuuri, how he loves him. Soft is safe, soft is comfortable. Viktor says he likes to keep Yuuri comfortable.

Yuuri says Viktor has a worrying spending problem.

In-between seasonal trips from St. Petersburg to Hatsetsu, Yuuri starts to notice things- things like the material of his wool coats and the shine of his new shoes. Yuuri begins to look at his wardrobe of tailored, designer clothing and his growing collection of silk neckties. 

He notices that most of the things he owns have been gifts.

He knows that he should feel some kind of guilt when it comes to Viktor pulling out his wallet every time Yuuri so much as points to something in the window of a shop as they pass by. He _knows_ he should be putting a stop to Viktor’s hemorrhaging bank account by doing his own clothing shopping alone, but he really can’t deny that Viktor has taste.

“You’re important to me,” Viktor would try to wave away his concerns when Yuuri voices them. His words are almost honeyed enough to distract his husband, “I want to spoil what's important to me.”

Yuuri _thinks_ the problem started when Viktor had bought him a crisp Paul Smith suit and had "misplaced" Yuuri's ratty blue tie when he tried to wear them together.

“Yuuri!” Viktor had cried, “You can’t wear this tie with this suit!”

Later, Yuuri had described him as looking “crazy” and “completely inconsolable” when he had the audacity to ask him why. After that, Yuuri's clothes were planned, tailored, and pressed to perfection.

Usually, Yuuri is able to rein in Viktor's over-spending tendencies. Being brought up in a small family business has taught him to be thrifty and his budgeting skills are second to none- but every so often, Yuuri can't help but let Viktor (and himself) indulge.

Some days, they need it get it out of their systems. For Viktor, it means spoiling Yuuri rotten- and he _means_ rotten. He wants to see shy, modest Yuuri Katsuki drift into his more demanding and _disobedient_ self. He wants to lovingly correct him, guide him back to being a good boy.

For Yuuri, it means letting his body be, letting Viktor do every thing he's ever wanted to do for him. Every so often he likes to see if Viktor would actually tear down the sun and moon just for him, and if not that, then watching himself completely unfold under his husband's fingers would do just as nicely.

* * *

 

The day had started high energy for Yuuri with Viktor and Makkachin bouncing around him during his morning routine, each one having something _very_ important to say that Yuuri must know _right now_. Meanwhile, he slowly trudges around Viktor's apartment, dizzy from sleep and doesn't even register half the things his husband (or was that Makkachin just now?) is saying until he's half done with his coffee.

From then on, Yuuri feels as if the wind is pulling him through the rest of the day, dressing him, whisking him out the door and guiding him through bustling St. Petersburg.

Viktor is a whirlwind of excitement, bubbly optimism and _cash_. It seems like he'd sign checks to whoever wanted them, which bewilders Yuuri because who carries checks anymore? On their person? He had even very literally handed Yuuri a blank check with his signature scrawled at the bottom.

While Yuuri attempted to speak by wheezing, clutching the strip of paper in his fist, Viktor waved his hand and pushed him over to the neck wear stands in the tailor shop they had stopped in.

"Get whatever you want!" He had sung, "But remember, Yuuri. No stripes." He gripped Yuuri's shoulder like a vice, his voice turning ice cold. "Okay? _No. Stripes._ "

"No stripes." Yuuri squeaked before ducking between the tall display stands.

* * *

 

Six department stores, one park and two cafe’s later, Yuuri plops down on a street bench three blocks away from their apartment. Viktor, who up until now had been in his element, sets down his bags and bends over, checking in on the other.

“Tired?” He asks, brushing a few strands of hair back into Yuuri’s pushed back style.

“A little,” Yuuri says. “It's fine, we can keep going. I just need...” He breaths deep. “Just give me a sec.”

Viktor nods and sits close to Yuuri, stretching an arm out behind him. He watches the sun dip down below the city’s skyline for a few moments before taking a look back to his husband. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words get caught in his throat when he watches Yuuri push his glasses up, the frame catching the sunlight perfectly. He becomes mesmerized by Yuuri’s hand rubbing at the collar of his navy turtleneck and follows it when he places it back in his lap.

“What?” Yuuri says, his voice a little strained.

“Nothing.” Viktor smiles, leaning over on his hand and grinning like a fool. “Just looking.” 

“At what?” Yuuri huffs, tilting his head back. He’s getting anxious, Viktor can tell just by how he’s sitting- shoulders hunched, his hands curled tight against his slacks and his leg bouncing rapidly against the pavement.

_He's getting there_ , Viktor thinks.

Unfortunately, it takes just a bit of anxiety for Yuuri to start asking for what he wants directly.

“Would you like me to list all the things I’m looking at?” Viktor purrs, touching fingertips to Yuuri’s knee. His already bouncing leg jerks up along with his head. Yuuri gawks at Viktor like he’s 23 again, wide-eyed and the word "VIRGIN" practically stamped on his forehead. It makes Viktor laugh much to his husband’s despair.

“What?” Yuuri asks again, even more strained than before.

“Nothing!” Viktor chuckles, wiping his finger under his eye, “You’re funny.”

“How?” He says indignantly. 

“Would you like me to count the ways?”

“ _Viktor._ ” Yuuri groans, leaning his head back even further and squeezing his eyes shut tight. His husband shifts little closer to him and curls his fingers under his palm.

“Would you like to go home now?” He asks softly, lifting Yuuri's hand to rest his ring against his lips. "We can have dinner. And rest."

“Yes,” Yuuri whispers. "Yes, to all of that.”

* * *

 

"You have to stop looking at me like that." 

When Viktor jerks his head up, a red print of his palm against his chin blooms. He blinks and grins just as dreamily, if not more than he did a moment ago.

"Like what?" He asks sweetly. 

"Like that!" Yuuri gestures to his husband's face with his chopsticks. "Did you even listen to what I said?"

Viktor leans back down onto his hand and idly pokes at his food, "Uh- well..." He laughs, averting his eyes.

Yuuri slowly chews a mouthful of pork cutlet, staring coolly at the man. Viktor's eyes flicker up and down, unable to resist that pretty face even when it was displeased. His hand spins circles as he plays with his own food, while his other smothers a wide smile.

"You look like you're watching me skate." Yuuri hums before sipping some of the broth from his katsudon.

"I feel like I'm watching you skate." Viktor parrots, earning him snorted laughter.

"From me eating?" Yuuri snickers from behind his bowl, "You're so weird."

"Oh, Yuuri you wound me." Viktor speaks through a mouthful of pork, "You're so cute when you eat, _porosya_."

"That right, _kobuta_?" Yuuri bites back, quickly concealing his laughter behind his hand, "Your chin is dripping." He adds.

Once Viktor hand races to wipe his mouth, Yuuri raises his arms up, groaning with the stretch. His shirt rides up, revealing the cute belly under it, now slightly extended from this meal and the ones previous. 

"Feeling good?" Viktor asks, eyes locked onto one light stretch-mark that trails over the dangerous curve of the other's hips.

"Feeling full." Yuuri hums as he lowers his arms and rests back on his hands.

"My, well that won't do." Viktor sets down his chopsticks and slides around the low table to press his chest into Yuuri's shoulder. "I still have more for you."

"Oh, Viktor," Yuuri sounds uncertain and tilts away from him, "How much food did you buy?"

"Enough." His husband chirps, brushing a kiss against his neck. "I could save it for later and give you the other things now."

"Another thing?" Yuuri bawks, "Wait- Viktor really, how much did you buy?"

"Enough!" Viktor repeats, curling his arms around the man. He grazes his fingers over Yuuri's full hips, dipping them into the meat of them before drawing back up again. He angles Yuuri back into the arm wrapped around his waist and kisses his pulse, delighting in the fluttering speed of it. Before he can move on, he feels Yuuri's whine against his mouth before he hears it.

"What is it?" He keens, "What's the other thing?"

"Patience," Viktor purrs, "All in due time." He peppers more kisses onto Yuuri's neck, each one a little closer to leaving a mark.

"Viktorrr," Yuuri whines, wriggling a little in his arms.

"Such drama." Viktor tuts, prodding his belly just to see him squirm, ”Bed." Is all he hums in Yuuri's ear before tugging him to his feet. Yuuri's just a little sluggish from a full stomach, trotting along behind Viktor as they walk. It's cute really- a little like Makkachin when he wakes up from a nap.

As soon as they get past the bedroom door, Yuuri begins to strip. Not slowly or sensually, but more like a person who is about to enter a food coma and would like to lay down right now, thank you very much.

Viktor laughs as he watches Yuuri discard all but his turtleneck and boxer briefs, leaving a trail of clothing all the way to the bed. Yuuri flops down face first and buries his head into the soft down-pillow.

"And after all I did to dress you this morning.” Viktor jokingly chides, following him and picking up the other's clothes.

A muffled "Mmgh.” Is all he gets for a reply

“ _Yuu_ -ri,” Viktor sings quietly, folding a cardigan over his arm and reaching down to card his fingers through the man's hair.

Yuuri peeks up at him and curls his arms tighter around the pillow. "What?" He asks, his voice becoming petulant.

_There it is_ , he thinks. 

Viktor's grin turns crisp, the corners of his mouth turning up and his eyes sparkling with something that makes Yuuri nervous. A shiver races down Yuuri's back when his fingers tug at the elastic band of his briefs.

"Will you roll over for me?" He says gently. It's a request, but Viktor's smile says something different. Yuuri stays still, testing the waters of his control.

"Now." Viktor commands, letting the waistband snap back sharply against Yuuri's backside.

With a yelp, Yuuri flips over more in defense than anything else. He settles back up onto his elbows but still clutches the edge of a pillow in his hands as he fidgets. 

"Viktor," he whines, pushing up his glasses. "Stop teasing."

"Who said I was teasing?" Viktor feigns innocence and sits beside the man, leaning in for a kiss. Yuuri quickly dodges it and lays back to hug the pillow to his chest.

"I did." He grumbles, peeking through his lopsided glasses as he hugs the pillow tighter.

“Oh, _kotletka_ ,” Viktor muses, pushing his fingers under Yuuri’s briefs, “I’m going to do a lot more than tease you tonight.”

Viktor steals a quick kiss before leaning to the side, pulling open the bottom drawer and setting a small brown package down next to him. Before Yuuri can open it, Viktor takes it back, sitting a bit closer to the other and slowly pries open the gold foil seal.

"I know I said that I was just going to get _you_ things today," he starts, idly playing with the sticker, "but I ended up buying something for the both of us. Sort of."

"What is it?" Yuuri asks. He sounds a little too genuinely nervous for Viktor’s liking.

Viktor throws him a coy wink before tugging out two sheer black stockings, matching garter belt and panties. They undergarments were simple, the only defining detail of the stockings besides the thick black band circling hem was the dark seam that ran down the back of each leg, while the panties sported a change in material around the back, becoming as see-through as the stockings.

Yuuri swallows thickly, reaching to feel the silken material of the belt between his fingers. Little bows are attached to the straps that hang to connect the stockings to it, and a small heart cutout sits right where the base of Yuuri’s spine would be. He occupies himself turning the fabric over in his hands while Viktor undresses and redresses him with such tender reverie that Yuuri forgets all together Viktor's commanding tone just moments before. 

This push and pull of Viktor keeps Yuuri on his toes. He's like the ocean- unpredictable and powerful. One minute he's warm and soft, and the next mighty and unafraid of throwing his husband around in his arms. Yuuri is left gasping for breath, begging for mercy and loving every second of it. 

He catches Viktor's hands when he brushes them over the bare curve of his hip and kisses his fingers, licking at them, pushing them against his lips. He's just in his turtleneck now and the way Viktor is looking at him makes his dick jerk to life.

"Impatient." Is all Viktor says, catching Yuuri's bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger and tugging playfully.

Viktor continues his work, bringing one of the other's leg up, kissing his toes and the top of his foot chastely before inching the black stocking over it. It's like he's practiced this, knows exactly where and when to accidentally graze his nails over Yuuri's calf- knows exactly at what intervals he should kiss over the sheer fabric.

Yuuri squirms when the elastic band of the stocking snaps against his thigh, indenting into it ever so slightly. Viktor teases his fingers under it for a moment before moving to the next leg.

Just as slowly, just as carefully, Viktor places the next stocking on. When his hands reach for the delicate pair of underwear, Yuuri wriggles again. He twists his fingers into the hem of his sweater, now half hard as anxious to be touched. He never knew being dressed could count as foreplay, but then again, Viktor has never ceased to surprise him.

When Viktor lifts his lower half up to slide his legs into them, Yuuri makes a small noise of protest. It keens up from the back of his throat like a puppy denied of a treat as if he hasn't gotten enough attention today.

"Viktor," he murmurs as the Russian's cold hands continue to creep up his legs. "This is just a gift for you, isn't it?"

"Oh, Yuurichka." Viktor lets the undergarment snap into place loudly against Yuuri's waist. "Do I look that selfish to you?" He tuts, playing with the black fabric.

"Just look at you," he continues, ignoring his husband's wiggles of protest in favor of hooking the matching garter around his hips. He has to push Yuuri’s shirt up to fit it properly, but once he hooks it together and connects the straps to Yuuri’s stocking’s, he sits back to look at his work. "You look so pretty for me, kotletka."

Yuuri flushes and pushes back harder into the pillows. He wants to be swallowed up by them, filled with Viktor's scent and warmed by the heat of his gaze.

"You're my pretty boy, aren't you?" Viktor asks. 

"Mmh," Yuuri hums noncommittally. He more focused on seeking out just a little more friction than he is about answering questions.

Viktor fixes that right up.

"Answer me." He says with a sharp slap to Yuuri's upper thigh.

“ _Ah!_ Y-Yeah,” Yuuri yelps, wriggling under Viktor’s touch.

_Slap!_

“Try again.”

“Yes, Viktor!” Yuuri corrects himself, “I’m- I’m your pretty boy…”

“Yes, you are.” Viktor purrs, punctuating the phrase with another spank, “My pretty. Spoiled. Boy.” He rains down slaps with every word, sending Yuuri’s buzzing nerves into overdrive.

“Viktor,” Yuuri pants, clutches at the silk bedspread beneath him.

“Do you want more, Yuurichka?”

Yuuri nods frantically, pinned under Viktor's gaze.

“What do you say?”

“Yes, Viktor. I want more.”

* * *

 

Viktor loves seeing Yuuri cum with just his fingers. He loves seeing the way Yuuri's body jumps like a puppet on a string when he taps his them just right. When Yuuri writhes, boneless and flexible his heart soars with pride and his aching hand gets a second wind.

Seeing him like that is a close second to seeing him like this. What's better than Yuuri cumming untouched with a lewdly shocked expression? Seeing Yuuri cum with his eyes rolled back, his body rigid and utterly over stimulated from everywhere Viktor could reach. It would be the third time Yuuri came tonight, but it wouldn’t be the last. 

"Viktor- _Viktor!_ " Yuuri gasps, whipping his fist down against the sheets and clawing at them. He closes warm, plush thighs against both of Viktor's ears, though he tries hard not to squeeze too tight. 

Three fingers inside him and Viktor’s very practiced tongue is all it takes to get Yuuri wailing. He’s far too familiar with all the little things that drive Yuuri crazy and tries to utilize that knowledge any way he can. 

"Viktor! _I can't!_ I’m gonna- Viktor!" Unhinged cries pair sweetly with his pleading, echoing off the walls and stroking Viktor's swelled ego.

Viktor uses his free hands to pry Yuuri's legs apart, molding the forgiving flesh in his palm. He presses his fingers into feel the give every so often and to watch them sink easily into Yuuri. Slowly, his pulls his talented mouth back and chuckles, his breath ghosting over the head of Yuuri's length.

"Hush, Yuuri." he soothes, "Do you want to wake the entire building?" He ends the statement with a cruel stroke of his fingers inside Yuuri, grazing over all the places where Yuuri _needs_ them. The man's back arched and another ragged moan falls from his lips. Yuuri pants, sitting up on his elbows and gazing down at Viktor with glassy eyes.

“Do _you?_ ” He asks with a coy grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

Viktor takes a large inhale through his nose, concealing the shaking enthusiasm under his skin and exhales with a wide smile. He reels Yuuri back under his mercy with a few well-placed thrusts and has him howling in seconds. Viktor’s head goes back where it belongs, nestled between Yuuri’s legs while his free hand caresses over Yuuri’s parted thighs, scratching his nails over the one bow there. He wants those thigh bracketing his jaw, pressing against his ears, but Yuuri’s so far gone at this point, Viktor is genuinely worried about the wellbeing of his neck.

“Viktor, Viktor,” Yuuri’s hips snap up, with each time he says the other’s name, “Ahh- Vitya! _Fuck_ , oh my god-“ Those thighs Viktor’s can’t keep his hands off are trembling, jerking up with each time Viktor’s tongue rolls against the seam of his cock. “I _can’t_ \- Viktor, slow down,” He gasps.

“Then don’t.” Viktor rasps against Yuuri’s cock, securing an arm around the crest of his thigh to anchor him, “Right here, Yuurichka.” He purrs, tapping his high cheekbone.

Yuuri peeks down- an obvious mistake- and lets out an audible sigh when Viktor blinks those crystal clear eyes at him. The man kisses his leaking length chastely and bats his long silver eyelashes. Viktor is waiting for him, patient as always, but the excited roll of his hips against the mattress and that little smirk playing across his face give his excitement away. Yuuri knows exactly what Viktor is waiting for.

Yuuri doesn’t hear the words Viktor says against his cock, but he sure as hell feels them. The feeling of teeth and vibrating breath together with Viktor’s fingers are the last little tug that breaks the already frayed knot in Yuuri’s gut. He comes apart over Viktor’s grinning face, hot streaks marring his silky hair to drip off his eyelashes.

“ _Khoroshiy mal'chik,_ ” Viktor hums in Russian, helping Yuuri ride out his orgasm by languidly thrusting his fingers. “Feel good?”

Yuuri isn’t ready to speak yet. He’s too busy ripping at the bedsheets to keep them from ripping out Viktor’s hair as wave after wave of aftershock hits him. His legs are still shaking, and even with Viktor holding his hips down, they still strain and buck against his hold. Yuuri splutters out a few syllables but gives up all hope of trying to speak when he falls back to the bed, his head throbbing as much as his body.

“Shekastik, speak.” Viktor placates, rising up after Yuuri’s convulsions pass and presses little kisses up his chest.

“ _Yeah._ ” Yuuri’s moan is breathy and high. Uncoordinated hands bump against his glasses when he tries to push back his hair, skewing them even further. “Felt good.”

“Perfect,” Viktor smiles, bringing those alluring thighs around his own hips. “Are you ready for more?”

“Viktor,” Yuuri groans, pressing his back further into the mattress. He looks like a delicious offering, dressed up and absolutely debauched by Viktor alone. The mess of his hair, the fog in his glasses and his raw red lips make him all the more enticing as if his soft curves and tender body didn’t.

“Yuurichka, how selfish!” Viktor grinds his hips between Yuuri’s open legs. “How greedy can my pretty boy be?” He muses, yanking one of Yuuri’s legs up and smacking his hand against his ass. “I ought to do something about that, shouldn’t I, _Yuuri?_ ”

Yuuri’s cry is laced with longing- he rolls into the touch and leans up to kiss Viktor, but his lips meet words instead.

“ _Speak,_ kotletka.”

“Yes, Viktor.” Yuuri gasps his reply. He ready for Viktor to take what he wants, what he’s been aiming for all day. He sighs when he feels Viktor line up as his entrance, teasing him with gently rocking his hips forward.  

“ _Please._ ” Yuuri groans

“There's my good boy.” He murmurs before driving his hips forward.

Yuuri’s back arches up just as weightless as his voice. Again, Viktor has him seeing cross-eyed and making noises he should feel embarrassed about but doesn’t. He _should_ feel some level of irritated at how _unfair_ Viktor is, how he’s able to render Yuuri into shaking putty over and over again. It could be the static charging from his cashmere turtleneck and the sheets, but Yuuri swears he feels electricity every time Viktor’s hands glide over him, every time he kisses the side of his open mouth and whispers filthy things in his ear.

“Come on, Yuuri.”

_Slap!_

Viktor’s voice seeps into his bones, into every fiber in his body, “Tell the neighbors who fucks you this good.”

“V-Vik- ahh! Viktor…” Yuuri inhales sharply.

_Slap!_

“Yuurichka, you were so loud before. What happened? I know you can do better.” Viktor slaps his thigh to prove his point, drawing a shocked cry from the other.

“Viktor,” Yuuri groans as Viktor grinds up, right _there_ , right where Yuuri _wants_ it.

“Louder.” He thrusts powerfully, just once into that spot before meticulously grinding his hips.

“ _Viktor!_ ” Yuuri wails, knocking his heels into his husband’s back, “Viktor! Come on, please!” He gasps when Viktor continues to rock forward, shallow and easy.

“Yes, my love?” The laughter leaks out of all of his words, “What do you want, Yuurichka?” He leans down, working a small pink kiss mark into a beautiful crimson color.

“Viktor, fuck me.” Yuuri whimpers, clawing his hands down the others back.

“I _am_ fucking you.” Viktor circles his hips torturously slow.

“Viktor- _ahh, fuck!_ You know what I mean!” Yuuri pleads. He scrapes his nails over Viktor’s shoulders, squeezes around him when he thinks Viktor might give a real thrust, does anything he can think of to make Viktor _move_.

“It’s like you’re trying to milk me, shetashik.” Yuuri gets his cheek pinched for it. “Pretty boys need to be polite, Yuuri. What do you say?”

Yuuri rocks up, once, twice, “Please, Viktor. Please fuck me harder. Viktor, ple- _ahh!!_ ”

Yuuri gets what he begs for three fold. Viktor pushes against the back of his knees until they’re nearly resting on Yuuri’s own shoulders before delivering deep, solid thrusts into him. He’s fucking Yuuri like he wants to _prove_ something- like he really does want the neighbors to know how mindless he can make his husband. Yuuri’s just cum, but already Viktor has him building up to the edge again.

“That's right. Louder, shekastik. ”

“ _Vi-Viktor!_ Oh my god, Vitya-” Yuuri can barely recognize himself. Viktor has him so badly- he’s able to wreck and rebuild Yuuri over and over until Yuuri _needs_ him to do it, needs Viktor to tell him what to do or who he is, even if it's just a reminder.

“Just a little more, Yuuri- _shit,_ ” Viktor groans, “Be good for me.”

“Viktor- gonna, _I’m gonna-!_ ” Yuuri rocks back against Viktor’s thrusts, against lost in searching for his own orgasm.

“So soon?” Viktor pouts and anchors an arm around Yuuri’s thigh. “What a pity.” He grunts with a particularly deep thrust. “I know you can hold out longer, Yuuri.”

Yuuri is seeing stars, Viktor’s hands caressing his sides and landing random slaps against his ass are unraveling him yet again with worrying speed.

“Viktor! I- wait, I’m gonna cum!” Yuuri tries to honestly warn Viktor, his voice pitched high in worry. Viktor keeps telling him to hold it, to be a good boy, but how _can_ he when Viktor is fucking him so well, hitting right where Yuuri wants it so hard that his brain is starting to forget his own name? He must be so easy to read even if he wasn’t whimpering about how close he was.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you, Yuurichka?” Viktor interrupts Yuuri’s babbling, “Not when I just told you not to.”

Viktor is so _unfair_. Yuuri’s being pulled apart in all directions as Viktor aims his thrusts right at Yuuri’s prostate just as he squeezes his fingers tight around the base of his cock, cutting off Yuuri’s orgasm before it has a chance to happen.

“Yuuri- _ah, fuck_ ,” Viktor groans, “You’re squeezing me so tight. You really want to cum that bad?” Yuuri doesn’t have the mind to interpret Viktor's teasing voice, only that he’s holding him back from what he so desperately needs.

“Vi-Vikt-ohh, Viktor, yes please!” Yuuri bucks against Viktor's hold, “Let me cum, please Viktor!”

Soft and writhing, soft and whimpering, soft and begging. Viktor loves Yuuri like this- guard down and helpless, all for him. He’s been holding back all day for this, to see Yuuri collapse in on himself and reach for Viktor like a lifeline. He’s very sure Yuuri’s cries can be heard at _least_ to the floor above them if not the neighboring apartment which only spurs him on further.

He’s halfway to letting himself tease Yuuri more when the other reaches up and so tenderly combs his trembling hands through Viktor’s hair.

“I love you,” Yuuri says it with his whole face, brighter than the sun itself. “Viktor, please, I love you so much.” He whimpers, straining his neck to lean forward for a kiss.

Viktor's heart jumps with the earnest confession. It's something he's heard often- every day even, but still it makes his insides melt with the warmth from Yuuri's entire being. When Viktor bends down, his already aching heart snaps when Yuuri places one innocent kiss against his lips.

_“Cum with me, Vitya.”_

Viktor _thinks_ he mumbles a simpering _“Okay”_ against Yuuri’s mouth, but it very possibly could have been a strangled whine before he releases Yuuri’s cock and makes every thrust count for _Yuuri_.

Yuuri always makes the best faces. Viktor could and has come from just looking at his photos of Yuuri in the past, but seeing him like this is no match. Yuuri’s eyes roll right before they start to flutter open and shut, his orgasm cresting and arching his body up as if pulled by a thread. Viktor always ends up closing his eyes when he cums, but he hates it. He wants to see every way Yuuri’s face twitches and moves as he screams himself hoarse.

When Yuuri lays back and lets himself be caught in the undertow of aftershocks is when he’s at his softest. He’s completely relaxed, and near giggling as he succumbs completely to his fried nerves endings and fuzzy thoughts.

With shaking hands, Viktor clumsily unhooks the garter and frees Yuuri’s stockings from the straps. He tosses it to the side and lays his head against Yuuri’s heart beat, listening carefully to its rhythm. After rubbing small soothing circles at the red indentations left by the garter belt, he runs his hands up and down Yuuri’s legs, feeling the silky fabric of the stocking under his palm and savoring every moment.

“You really like these…” Yuuri mumbles against fine platinum hair.

“Does it show?” Viktor smirks, tracing the thick black band around the top of Yuuri’s thigh.

“I just happened to notice.” Yuuri replies with a breathy laugh. “Maybe I’ll get more for your birthday.”

“You still have to try on the other ones I bought you first, though.”

“Viktor.” Yuuri tries to groan, but it comes out half-hearted. “You have a problem.”

“Is treating my wonderful husband a problem? Should I not treat you? Should I _punish_ you?” Viktor’s grin stretched wide across his face and he peers up at the other. Yuuri throws an arm over his eyes and sighs heavily.

“I’m taking away your credit card.”

“You _wouldn’t_.”

“I _really_ would,” Yuuri stresses the ‘really’ and tugs Viktor’s hair. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?" Viktor smiles even brighter and peppers delighted little kisses over Yuuri’s collarbone, earning apathetic whines and croons “My darling. My husband whom I treasure, and adore and the one I love-”

“Go to sleep.” Yuuri laughs, pressing the other's face into his neck in an attempt to quiet him.

Eventually, Viktor does sleep, but only after he watches Yuuri nod off himself, surrounded by silk, dressed in cashmere and satin, and so very _very_ soft looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad i posted this while the yuuri in lingerie trend was still warm (as if it ever wont be) so please look at this [drawing](http://sajwho.tumblr.com/post/158458567151/i-saw-a-bunch-of-drawings-with-yuuri-wearing) that i based yuuri’s outfit on
> 
> come talk to me about these boys in the comments!!
> 
> porosya- diminutive of piggy, used for people who are a messy but in a nice way  
> kobuta- piglet  
> kotletka- diminutive of cutlet  
> Khoroshiy mal'chik- good boy  
> shekastik- person w/ cute cheeks


	6. on some dumb shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It’s enough to even make me, a man, pregnant!”_ -Yuuri Katsuki, episode 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey remember when i said chapter four might have pt2……… well. here we are. i have no idea
> 
> (just a head up, the both of them are smashed in this chapter, so if thats not your thing you may wanna skip this one. to be fair tho i cite the live show)
> 
> [music](http://slightlycaptivated.tumblr.com/post/101307036600/this-will-be-one-of-the-snazziest-tunes-you-will)
> 
> [ALSO there is art for this now!!](https://cqpeekaboo.tumblr.com/post/162403515628/cqpeekaboo-click-for-hd-some-sorta-sfw)

It's honestly shocking how Viktor and Yuuri get back to their room unscathed. It helps that the GPF banquet takes place in one of the luxurious hotel's ballrooms, but three and a half bottles of champagne make it hard to press the buttons on the elevator let alone even _find_ the elevator in the first place.  
  
Still, Viktor and Yuuri get to room 1608.  
  
"Viktor- _fuck_." Viktor knocks over the coat stand when he slams Yuuri against the wall.

"Yuuri- _Yuuri_ , come on. Up, _up._ " Yuuri's head hits the wall harder than intended.  
  
"Viktor! Ow..." he whines as he hooks a leg around his husband's hip. Clumsily he bumps the half finished bottle of in his hand against the back of Viktor's head.  
  
“Sorry,” Viktor’s giggle is involuntary as he grinds forward as an apology, eliciting a loud whine from Yuuri. He noses at the man’s neck, sucking a few pink hickeys wherever he finds room. Viktor is determined to turn at least a couple purple by the end of the night if he can remember.  
  
“Viktor,” Yuuri whines again, rolling his hips back against Viktor’s own. It’s incredible how fluid Yuuri can still be when drunk, much unlike the stumbling mess of his husband. His movements pull a moan like molasses, sweet and slow, from Viktor who detaches from Yuuri’s neck with a wet pop. “Are we gonna do it here?” Yuuri asks into the Russian’s ear.

“ _Yeah,_ ” Viktor grins like a child into Yuuri’s neck, matching the slow roll of the other’s hips. “Let’s do it here, okay?” He wraps both arms around Yuuri’s middle and squeezes. In the same motion, he sinks a bite onto Yuuri’s collarbone, using his body weight to pin Yuuri to the wall. Between their grinding, kissing and biting, Yuuri barely notices the grip he has on the bottle of brut champagne loosening until it slips altogether from his hand.

The smash from the shattering bottle startles the pair- Viktor’s balance falters and his fruitless attempts to right himself by clinging to Yuuri fails as they topple to the side. A mess of broken glass, champagne and Viktor’s shocked expression makes Yuuri laugh out loud. Viktor pouts and blows his hair out of his face, knitting his brows together.

“Yuuri, so cruel.” He whines, pressing kisses to Yuuri’s open mouth. “Laughing at my pain.”

“Should I kiss it better?” Yuuri barely has time to whisper before Viktor leaps at him, crushing their mouths together. They're rolling, twisting, kissing until Viktor is caging Yuuri between his chest and the floor. It's so hot, Yuuri can feel the fire in Viktor's belly, taste the burn on his tongue. He's molten steel, thick and strong, consuming Yuuri until-

_“Ahh!”_

Yuuri's left leg springs up as he feels the crunch of glass under his heel. The raw cry shocks Viktor out of his stupor, immediately drawing him up.

“Yuuri? What's wrong? Did the- oh,” Viktor clambers off Yuuri and lifts his leg up as he sweeps away the broken glass. “Oops.” He snorts and brushes broken glass away from Yuuri’s stocking clad heel. “It ripped.”

“What?” Yuuri props himself up on his elbows and adjusts his glasses.

“The tights.” Viktor raises Yuuri’s foot even higher and kisses the crest of it chastely. “They ripped.”

“Oh.” Yuuri is still panting, caught under Viktor’s gaze and grip. He wriggles his toes, looking at a small run that threatens Yuuri's stockings at his heel, exposing a small circle of skin. He laughs through his nose and playfully tries to shake free from Viktor’s hold, yanking his foot back when he feels Viktor’s fingers circle tighter.

He yelps when Viktor hauls him back all of a sudden, dragging him across the floor and onto his lap.

“Are you gonna carry me?” He asks when Viktor’s hands stroke up and down his calf.

“If you want me to.” Viktor purrs, again kissing Yuuri’s foot delicately.

“Can you?” Yuuri challenges, “You were kind of struggling before.”

Viktor’s chest swells and in a flurry of movement he pulls Yuuri up and tosses him onto their hotel bed. Yuuri bounces and nearly topples off the other side of the mattress, but he shoots out his arms and anchors himself by clutching the down duvet around him.

“Hey- _Ahh!_ ” Yuuri is suddenly crushed under the weight of a drunk husband, “You didn’t carry me!”

“I didn’t?” Viktor hums against his neck, wandering hands pulling at Yuuri’s belt.

“No, you- _nnh_ \- You threw me!”

“Did I?” Viktor chuckles, “Well, aren’t you lucky to have such a strong husband!”

“ _Vitya,_ ” Yuuri whines, tugging Viktor's tie when the other leans up to shimmy Yuuri’s pants off.

It’s then that Viktor suddenly moves slow, albeit clumsy. He takes in once again the sight of Yuuri’s thick bottom half, smoothed out by sheer nylon save for the dip in his hips where his underwear bites into them. He scrapes his nails over his husband’s pillowy stomach, following the silver branches of stretch marks to where the stockings cut in there, then down his thighs to spread his legs apart.

“Viktor,” Yuuri croons, bending his legs at the knee, bringing them toward his chest and pointing his toes. “Look at me.”

“I am looking at you.” Viktor says back, tucking a finger into the small tear at the heel. The run creeps up the back of Yuuri’s ankle, threatening to go higher. In the low light of their room Yuuri glows, radiating sex appeal that on the surface is innocent but in reality, Viktor knows. Under all that angelic light is something darker, something _dangerous_ and _irresistible._

Sharply, Viktor is jerked forward by his tie, forced to come face to face with the man below him. Yuuri is stretched out, face flushed and glistening with the combined efforts of bottomless champagne decanters and his own scorching heat. He narrows his eyes in a way that sets off something mischievous in Viktor’s chest.

“You aren’t looking _at_ me.” Yuuri growls, sitting up and slipping out from under Viktor. “Look at _me._ ”

“How can I look at you more, shekastik?” Viktor whines, combing the locks of hair that fall free from the others slicked back hairstyle back into place. He settles his hand at the back of Yuuri’s neck and brings them close together, quickly turning the soft chaste kiss into something deep and hungry.

“Just- _Mhh, fuck_ , nnh Viktor.” Yuuri groans into the kiss and locks his legs around his husband. Playful fingers brush through his silver locks to tease at his hair whorl, earning a pinching bite to his lower lip.

“Stop that.” Viktor bites again and claws at Yuuri’s thigh. Underneath his groping fingers, he can feel new tears forming at various points around Yuuri’s hips. A thought flickers in his love drunk mind, becoming more and more persistent the more Yuuri grinds and wiggles.

Viktor wants to see Yuuri laid out, ripped up and debauched. The thought wants him to fuck Yuuri through these cheap tights, make him look like something he isn’t, something filthy, illicit and just for him.

“What?” Yuuri hums against his lips. Had Viktor said all that out loud? Oops.

“I don’t know,” Viktor can’t help the keen in his voice, “This whole thing- you look so- _fuck, Yuuri._ ” He groans, rocking forward again, “You look like a- like a…”

“Like a what?” How can Yuuri’s voice be so impossibly close to his brain?

Viktor only groans in response.

“Like a whore?” Yuuri poses.

Viktor’s punched out groan leaves his mouth before coherent words did. “ _Ahh-_ I meant, I was thinking of more of… an escort– something classy.”

“Classy!” Yuuri laughs around his kisses, rocking to the side to roll them over. He sits up on Viktor’s lap and braces his hands on the man’s solid abdomen– and there’s that look again, erotic and possessive, boring holes right through Viktor’s center.

“You like looking at me.” Yuuri states, rolling his body back and forth over Viktor’s eager dick. He grins and bites his puffy lower lip, right over where Viktor’s had clamped down moments before.

“ _Gospodi Yuuri,_ there’s nothing I love more.” Viktor pants, digging his fingers into the quickly widening tears of his tights and plucking them apart.

Yuuri has him caught so terrifyingly tight around his fingers. Viktor trades his control and sanity just to have Yuuri’s body and soul, ready and willing. Like Yuuri’s tights, he’s coming apart at the seams and can’t decide if he wants Yuuri to sew him back up or tear him asunder. Instead of deciding, he lets Yuuri grip his face, stroking over the barely-there stubble and guiding his eyes wherever Yuuri wants them.

“ _Keep looking._ ” And Yuuri _is_ purring like a goddamn whore when he reaches beside them for the half used up bottle of lube on the side table. For once, he’s appreciative about their cluttered lifestyle and how convenient the mess can be sometimes.

Viktor obeys because it’s impossible not to look as Yuuri reaches behind him and jerks his hand. The loud rip of his stockings is like thunder to Viktor, shaking all the blood that was in his head right down to his cock. In his impatience, Yuuri spills nearly the rest of the lube onto his fingers, much of his dripping down his arm to settle into Viktor’s dress shirt. Distantly, Viktor a little irritated at that because this _entire_ outfit is _Saint-Laurent_ but then Yuuri lifts up and reaches behind himself before whining loud from his throat.

He works hard and fast, even rocking his hips against his own fingers and all the while staring at Viktor from under his thick eyelashes.

“Viktor, Viktor.” He keeps panting, “Are you watching? _Viktor,_ I want you to watch.”

“I am, I am, Yuurichka.” Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s plush ass and teases the tear in his stocking wider. “You look so pretty getting nice and open for me, kotletka. Can I help you?”

Yuuri grins like it's his birthday but shakes his head. He lets his eyes fall close, devoting himself more to his little show than to making sure Viktor has his eyes trained on only him. He rocks and squirms and rides his own fingers the best that he can, making sure Viktor can hear every change of angle he makes. When he feels Viktor’s fingers pry at his entrance he yelps before eagerly pushing back against them.

“ _Viktor,_ ” He drags out the man’s name in a pitiful protest. “Just watch!”

“I’m still looking,” Viktor lets his practiced fingers to the persuading and has Yuuri betraying his own protests in only a few moments.

Viktor’s hand works well even if it’s cramped against Yuuri’s own. He does more teasing than prepping, taking pleasure in the full body shudders that rack Yuuri’s plush frame every time he teases his thumb against the other’s perineum.

“ _Wait- Wait,_ Vitya!” Yuuri jerks up, gulping and panting. Defiantly, Viktor presses his middle and index finger against Yuuri’s hole, but only gets a slap on the wrist and a high whine.

“Gonna come,” Yuuri pants, scooting back and pawing at Viktor’s belt and fly, smearing lube all over the expensive material.

“Would that be so bad?” Viktor asks, reaching down to help Yuuri. His husband whines something inaudible and chases Viktor’s dick, pulling it free from its confines and staring at it like some kind of delicious meal. It bounces against Viktor’s lower stomach before Yuuri has a chance to stroke it a few times.

“Don’t wanna cum like that.” Yuuri whispers, squeezing out a healthy amount of lube from their bottle and spreading it over him in glacial movements. “Wanna cum with you in me.”

“Fuck, Yuuri.” Viktor groans, “Up, get up.” He urges, bucking into Yuuri’s fist and giving impatient slaps to his ass.

Yuuri just laughs and moves slowly just to spite him. He keeps a close watch on Viktor as he lines himself up, purposefully sliding wetly back and forth over his cock.

“Are you watching?” He questions, pressing the head against his fluttering entrance.

“Yes, kotletka, hurry!” Viktor begs, tugging at Yuuri’s hips and arching up.

“Promise to just watch?” Yuuri sits back ever so slightly.

“ _Yes,_ Yuurichka!” Viktor moans, accidentally ripping a tear in Yuuri’s stocking wider.

“Good.” Yuuri breaths before sinking down all in one go. Moans spring from both their mouths– Yuuri is so _impossibly_ tight and Viktor is so _impossibly_ hard. Yuuri is quick to set up a fast pace, his thighs burning and bouncing as he rides Viktor with all the leftover zeal that their stolen champagne bottle and the quick bathroom blowjob from earlier had given him.

True to his promise, Viktor watches. He watches Yuuri slowly loose his mind, comb his hands through his hair and jiggle his hips with each bounce. It takes his whole being to resist grabbing on to those plump hips and to just take what he needs, but he’s terribly and irrevocably addicted to this sight. Viktor would happily trade every medal he’s ever won just for this, for Yuuri Katsuki ride his dick like he was born for it.

Yuuri whining and moaning his name again and suddenly stops with his brutal pace to grind deep against Viktor. It’s torture, but Yuuri is living for it, his bone-deep tremors passing right on through to Viktor.

“It’s so deep,” Yuuri sighs, cracking his eyes open to look up at the ceiling. A hand snakes down from his hair to trail over his torso. “Viktor, I can feel you,” He presses his hands right below his navel. “Right here.”

“Yes, kotletka.” Viktor grunts, bouncing Yuuri in his lap a few times before letting the excruciatingly gentle grinding take over again.

“Viktor,” Yuuri looks down with a smile so bright and soft, it knocks the wind out of him. “Ahh, wow…I feel- I feel like…”

“Feel what, Yuuri?” Viktor’s hands circle his waist and squeeze.

Yuuri closes his eyes again and leans his head against one shoulder. “I feel like you’re gonna get me _pregnant._ ”

 _That_ punches a ragged moan right out of Viktor.

Yuuri’s back hits the bed so fast he gets dizzy, but there’s no time to focus on what he just let slip when he’s suddenly on the verge of getting fucked right through said bed. Viktor throws Yuuri onto his side and _ohh–_ Yuuri know what’s going to happen next when the Russian hoists a leg over one of his broad shoulders and bears down on his hips to keep in exactly where he wants.

“ _God damn, Yuuri._ ” He drawls, “I had no idea.”

Yuuri realizes he has done something _very_ wrong. Or right. He can’t decide right now.

“Is that what you want, kotleka? You want to get knocked up?” He presses down hard below Yuuri’s bellybutton and bottoms out. It makes Yuuri writhe, crying out and pulling at every article of clothing and bedspread that he can get his hands on. Viktor’s cock suddenly feels big enough to split his very _soul_ open.

“Come, come, _come._ ” Yuuri wheezes, hooking an arm around Viktor’s neck and pulling close.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll give it to you.” Viktor’s voice continues to have Yuuri seeing stars, blinding him enough to where he needs the other guiding his thoughts and actions. “I’ll give you my come, kotletka, be patient.”

Viktor crushes him with a burning kiss, sloppy and so uncoordinated compared to the sharp precision of his hips. Viktor grazes past Yuuri’s prostate with every thrust with deadly accuracy. The hand pressing down on his belly doesn’t help _anything_ , it just threatening to pluck apart the already taut string inside him into a thousand threads.

“Go on, Yuuri.” Viktor speaks softly against the shell of his ear. “Come for me, ruin these tights.”

 _Oh god,_ Yuuri hasn’t even thought about that– that his dick has been trapped under the rapidly unraveling pair of tights this whole time, untouched and begging for release.

Viktor barely needs to apply any pressure to the restrained bulge beneath Yuuri’s stockings before the man his screaming. Yuuri does his very best to rip Viktor’s shirt in half as he comes, his whole body seizing. It takes all of Viktor’s will to keep fucking him through it instead of following him.

“Viktor, give it.” Yuuri demands breathly, stroking over Viktor’s face with tender hands. He pets over the man’s pulse and down his shoulders, before bringing them back up to guide him into a kiss. “Come in me. Want it deep,” _How even_ is Yuuri whispering all this very new, very hot information into Viktor’s mouth right now?

_“Get me pregnant, Vitya.”_

For all his commanding demeanor, Viktor has to obey yet again, helpless to resist Yuuri’s erotic force. The full body shudder that passes through both of them reverberates back and forth, shaking moans out of their chests and chasing thoughts from their minds. Waves of aftershock bring them close together and wash over every sore muscle in their beings.

Yuuri is the first to rouse, teasing Viktor’s hair whorl to resurrect him and gentle pushes at his shoulder to get him to roll over.

Viktor just fixes him with a stare that makes Yuuri flush from head to toe.

“What?” He murmurs, curling in on himself.

Viktor’s grin just grows.

“What?” Yuuri says again, propping himself up on his elbows and chewing his lip.

“Nothing, it’s just…” Viktor muses and presses his index finger to his bottom lip. “Do you think it's going to be a boy or a girl?”

“ _Oh my god._ ” Yuuri whirls over and pulls every single sheet they have on the bed over himself, wanting desperately to sink right through the mattress and into the fucking abyss. He regrets his whole life and promises never to touch champagne ever again in his life.

“Yuuri! What a surprise! When were you going to tell me about _that?_ ” Viktor clambers over him and yanks at the duvet over Yuuri’s face. He gets a bare few centimeters of Yuuri’s forehead exposed which he presses a baker's dozen of kisses to.

“Viktor, don’t!” Yuuri draws out his whine and peeks out over the blanket. His eyelids are assaulted by fluttering kisses and tipsy giggles. “ _Please_ forget I said any of that.”

“Yuuri, how could I?” Viktor sounds genuinely hurt, but when does Viktor sound anything but genuine?

Yuuri huffs through his nose and sizes Viktor’s pouting face up before lifting his arm to welcome him under the blanket. His husband dives right in and wraps himself around Yuuri like a leech. For a moment they share each other's breath again before Yuuri murmurs.

“We wrecked my tights.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.” Viktor replies instantly, his arms slinking behind Yuuri to grab a handful of his ass underneath the largest rip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. YIKES.
> 
> so i’m going to mark this fic as complete! my updates are becoming less and less frequent, so I don’t want people to be hanging in suspense for my writers block to allow me to write for one (1) week. If I have anymore updates, I’ll just post them here too, but for now lets just say this is ended (with possible epilogues?)
> 
> Thank you so much for your love and support!!! I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see all these kudos and how excited i am to reply to every comment I get. You guys really helped me keep this going and I hope I can provide more thicc yuuri sometime in the future. I track the tag fic:AMNM on tumblr if yall wanna show me anything! also please go check out the [art](https://cqpeekaboo.tumblr.com/post/162403515628/cqpeekaboo-click-for-hd-some-sorta-sfw) for this!!
> 
> life, love and yikes ❤️❤️❤️


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